


if all's fair in love and war (then what are we fighting for)

by TheWritingManiac



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Marauders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 85,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23673754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingManiac/pseuds/TheWritingManiac
Summary: in which Annabeth’s the golden girl of Slytherin, Percy’s the infamous Gryffindor member of the Marauders, and their rivalry has been going on for four years. Or, the princess pureblood and the popular muggleborn are forced to work together constantly, and well—the difference between love and war is smaller than one might think. percabeth, au
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 86
Kudos: 408





	1. Chapter 1

Their feud is _legendary_.

Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase have been fighting ever since they were tiny first-years on the Hogwarts Express, and Percy accidentally bumped into Annabeth, knocking her newly-bought schoolbooks to floor. It was an _accident_ , Percy always insists—but it was the action that started The Feud.

As soon as they learned how to use their wands, it isn’t unexpected to find one or both of them in the hospital wing at least once a week, suffering from the after-effects of a Jelly-legs curse or a tongue-tying jinx. Every professor knows that unless they wanted their class interrupted every five minutes by a rising argument between the two, Annabeth and Percy have to be the only students with assigned seating (opposite sides of the room; Percy always on the right, Annabeth on the left.)

It honestly isn’t surprising, either—Annabeth Chase is the pureblood golden girl of the Slytherin, becoming the youngest prefect in a hundred years in her fourth year. Teachers adore her, purebloods and muggleborns of all ages worship the ground she walks on, and a quick flash of her perfect white smile can destroy boys and girls alike.

She’s the popular girl, the beautiful one, the brightest witch of her year (and maybe, adults whisper, her generation). She walks down the hall, her long, tan legs carrying her confidently on the marble tiles, and people stop and whisper or stare as she passes. She always looks perfect, too—head held high, grey eyes flashing confidently, like she knows she practically controls the school. Her grey skirt swishes as she walks, the top buttons of her white Oxford are undone—devastating every boy and girl within a dozen-foot-radius—and her green and silver tie hangs rakish around her neck, long golden curls usually swinging in a high ponytail. She’s a chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team, and her grades are the highest in the school; everyone knows that she could get any job she wants, when she graduates.

There isn’t a student or teacher in the school who doesn’t know her name. Her father is the famous chief editor of _The Daily Prophet,_ her mother the Minister for Magic herself, and their daughter has been in the spotlight of the magical world as long as she’s been alive. People expect her to become the Minister for Magic someday, taking after her mother. Annabeth Chase has had everything in her life handed to her on a golden platter.

Percy Jackson, on the other hand, is just as popular—but in every different way imaginable. He’s a muggleborn, his father long gone, his mother a hard-working seamstress. He’s tall, confident, muscular from his years as a seeker on the Gryffindor team; goes through a girl a week, could have anyone in the school if he chose. He doesn’t care much for the actual academics, instead working on his Quidditch skills, but somehow he still manages to get the Head Boy badge in his seventh year. The professors adore him, just as much as Annabeth; he’s effortlessly charming, can talk himself out of anything.

Just like Annabeth, every student in the school knows his name.

Of course, it only makes sense for the two most popular, most brilliant and most well-known students to absolutely, positively _despise_ each other from day one.

He causes her curls to tangle into a bird’s nest for an entire week; she responds by making his shoelaces tie themselves together at random times throughout the day. She hangs him up by his feet, dangling from a chandelier as Peeves shrieks with laughter; he levitates her schoolbooks to the giant squid. He tosses a curse at her in the halls, and the soles of her shoes split as her toenails grow unfathomably long; she twists her wrist effortlessly, and he burps slugs for a week.

They never address each other specifically; in fact, in all the four years of their feud, no one has ever heard them call each other by their first names. If anything, it’s a cocky nod and a “Chase,” passing her in the hallway, or a haughty glare and a “Jackson,” as she saunters by, swinging her hips.

So it’s a surprise for everyone, Percy the most, when on September 1st of their fifth year, Annabeth comes up to him with her Slytherin prefect badge shining brightly on her chest. “Hello, Percy. How was your summer?”

Percy blinks; all the people around them suddenly still their conversations, just as stunned as he is. “I’m—sorry?”

Annabeth’s grey eyes widen sweetly. “How was your summer, Percy?” she repeats.

For once in his life, for the first time since he met Annabeth Chase, Percy is at a loss for words. “Um. It was fine?” he answers, shrugging.

Annabeth smiles. “Brilliant.” She spins around lightly, her long curls swinging out behind her. “Congratulations on being the Gryffindor prefect!” she calls over her shoulder as she turns around, her friends scuttling after her and sending fearful looks back at Percy.

He doesn’t blame them. He’s a little scared, too.

Later, on the train when all the prefects and the Heads meet, it doesn’t _end._ Annabeth is perfectly cordial to him, which is surprising considering the fact that the last time they were in the same vicinity (on the Hogwarts Express, on the way home for the summer holidays), she had turned his hair bright green, and he had retaliated by charming the pumpkin pasties from the trolley to bombard her fresh linen shirt.

(They were both sent howlers from Headmaster Chiron, after he had heard; neither one had particularly cared.)

Now, though, no one else seems to know what Annabeth’s doing any more than Percy does, but by the end of the meeting, he thinks he’s figured it out.

“You’re just being decent to me because we’re both prefects, and we have to work together for the next year, am I right?” he calls, following her footsteps as she walks briskly down the hall after the prefects’ meeting.

Annabeth stops and turns around, facing him. “I’m going to have to put up with you quite often,” she says, shrugging her shoulders innocently. “I decided it would be mutually beneficial if we at least… _try_ to get along.”

Percy huffs out a bitter laugh. “More like your pureblood arse finally realized that just because I’m a muggleborn doesn’t mean I’m useless,” he spits out, and, okay, it isn’t the _first_ time he’s hinted at the bitterness he feels—because Annabeth is quite literally the posterchild for the perfect witch of the Magical world, and he couldn’t be farther from it—but it’s probably the most direct he’s ever been about it.

It’s a little frightening, though, as soon as the words spill out—she’s never reacted to any of his barbs over the many years and fights, not like this; her cheeks are splotchy with red, and the rest of her face is deathly pale as she clenches her fists.

Annabeth steps closer to him; she’s tall, but he’s taller, and her eyes flash as she looks up at him. “You think—you seriously think that’s what this was about?” she asks, and Percy falters; her voice sounds like she’s trying to be cutting, trying to hold up the impeccable mask, but it’s _shaking_ with anger and shock and Percy’s never been more confused in his life.

“Well, that’s what you Slytherins do, right?” he asks, trying for casual. “Hate anyone who doesn’t have the privilege or blood status that you do, who doesn’t have parents who basically control the magical world—”

She looks like she’s about to _cry,_ and in all of the four years he’s known her Percy has never known Annabeth Chase to cry. Not once.

“You— _Gryffindors,_ ” she spits out, before she turns on her heel and storms down the hall, disappearing into the car where he knows her friends are.

Percy just shakes his head. The school year hasn’t even begun, and he already thinks it’s going to be one hell of a ride.




Of course, as the Gryffindor prefect, Percy has to help the other prefects and Heads gather the first years and bring them to Hagrid, who waits with a large grin and a hearty, “Hello!” to all the tiny, timid eleven-year-olds.

He runs into Annabeth, who’s changed into her robes and uniform, not a curl in her high ponytail out of place as she herds the smaller children gently. For once, he actually stops to look at her—she’s gentle and kind with the little kids, drying tears, comforting them, breaking up fights—and he realizes that in all the four previous years, he’s never known that she could be anything other than haughty, proud, cold, vicious.

“What are you staring at?” his best friend, Jason, asks; he’s the Ravenclaw prefect, and his wire-rimmed glasses slide down his nose as he raises his eyebrows at Percy.

Percy quickly averts his eyes. “Nothing,” he fibs, quickly pointing a first year in the right direction. “Nothing at all.”

The ride to the castle is uneventful; Percy shares a carriage with Jason and the other members of their party—Grover, a Hufflepuff, and Leo, who’s Ravenclaw. Despite their different houses, they’ve all been friends since first year.

Back during their very first ride to school, Jason and Percy bonded on the Hogwarts Express, when Jason managed to snag Percy’s trunk from where Annabeth had levitated it after he knocked her books to the ground. Then came Leo, who caught their attention when his miniature pet dragon, Festus, caught the rug on fire. During their first feast, the three boys had noticed Grover being bullied by a few other boys for his limp, and, well—all four of them managing to get detention within fifteen minutes of arriving at the castle is the kind of thing that creates lasting friendships.

They’ve been inseparable since, especially when their pranks in first year began earning them the name _Marauders_ —and although Percy’s the most well-known of their group, from his ongoing feud with Annabeth Chase, all four of them are infamously popular throughout the school.

In the cramped little carriage, they’re all chortling over a something stupid that Jason said when Leo changes the subject abruptly. “What I want to know,” he begins, gesturing grandly at Percy, “is why _Annabeth Chase,_ your arch-nemesis, was talking to you earlier. I also want to know how both of you are still in one piece, currently.”

Percy, who’s been brooding in the corner, still pondering the earlier, befuddling events of the day, looks up and scowls. “It—it was nothing, Leo,” he says, still remembering the way Annabeth—no, _Chase,_ he corrects himself inwardly—had looked when he talked to her earlier. “Just forget it.”

The carriage falls uncomfortably silent, and Percy doesn’t look up, but he knows his friends are probably exchanging slightly worried and confused glances. For four years, Percy has been intent on his rivalry with Annabeth Chase, and he knows how befuddled they must be now.

_He’s_ befuddled, okay. The whole day has been crap, so far, and he’s not sure it’s going to get any better.

Thankfully, he’s saved from any questions as the carriage pulls up to the castle, and they all hop out. Percy is relieved as the subject of Chase’s conversation with him earlier is dropped, and he almost forgets about it until—

“What the _hell,_ ” he yelps, as his entire face suddenly explodes with a burst of pain. “ _McLean—_ ”

Annabeth Chase’s best friend, Piper McLean, stands before him, a furious expression on her face and her wand still sparking from the stinging hex she just landed on Percy’s nose. “That’s for being a jerk, earlier,” she announces, looking pleased with herself.

 _Honestly, if this day gets any more confusing—_ he thinks before saying, “It’s none of your concern, McLean.”

“Oh, yes it is!” she shouts back, her small form practically bristling with anger. Her wand is an inch from Percy’s nose, and he considers pushing it away, but he knows from experience that McLean is one of the best duelers in the school. He honestly probably wouldn’t stand a chance. She continues, “Your stupid _feud_ with her is one thing, but today you went too far, Jackson.”

There’s definitely a crowd gathering around them now, whispers hissing in Percy’s ears. He sees his friends, huddled in a worried group as they watch the exchange, and he’s about to answer McLean when—

“Piper, what the hell is going on?” Chase demands, striding up. The crowd parts around her, people whispering in awe; every year, Percy forgets how much of a celebrity she is in the magical world, and every year on September 1st he remembers.

McLean turns to her best friend, her short, dark hair flying as she spins around, her wand still aimed at Percy’s face. He gulps. “I was just telling Jackson here not to mess with you again,” she says sweetly.

Chase lowers her voice. “Piper, it’s okay,” she murmurs. “Really, I’m fine.” She turns to Percy, and there’s a certain coldness in her eyes, that—while being vaguely familiar from their countless fights in the past—seems more drained, more tired, than the normal ice. “Come here, Jackson,” she says wearily, pulling out her wand.

Percy eyes her warily, clutching his throbbing nose. “What… what are you doing?”

She huffs impatiently, grabbing his hand from his face and ignoring his squeal of protest. “Healing you,” she says, brusque, and there’s another explosion of pain before the agony suddenly ceases completely.

Chase puts her wand away and touches her friend’s arm. “Come on, Piper,” she says, and Percy feels like he should say something—maybe thank you?—but she turns away, and he berates himself even for the thought of saying _thank you_ to the girl who has been his arch-enemy since the minute they met.

McLean presses her lips together, but reluctantly lowers her wand. “I’m warning you, Jackson,” she says, one more time, before allowing Chase to pull her away.

“Nothing else to see here!” Chase yells, and the crowd dissipates, scattering as though they were under the Imperious curse. Percy honestly doesn’t blame them.

He goes to find his own friends, and they survey him warily. “What was that, Percy?” Grover asks hesitantly.

Percy shakes his head wearily as they head to the Great Hall for the welcome feast. “I have absolutely no idea.”

“Annabeth _healing_ you, though?” Leo pipes up, ignoring Percy’s warning look. “All she’s ever done before is the opposite.”

“Percy kind of brings it upon himself, though,” Jason puts in. Percy glares at him, and he shrugs apologetically. “Sorry, but it’s true. You’ve put each other in the hospital wing in only your first year more times than I can count.”

“Yeah, but that’s always by _dueling,_ ” Percy mutters as the four of them find a cluster of empty seats at the Gryffindor table. The professors have long since stopped trying to make them each sit at their house tables; none of them ever actually obey. “This—honestly, this whole _day_ has been weird, okay?”

The other boys nod in agreement.

In only a few more minutes, all the students have gathered in the hall and are sitting at their tables; thousands of voices chatter brightly, creating a comforting din that reminds Percy of home, because—Hogwarts _is_ his home, has been his home since the first glimpse of the castle that he got in the boats in his first year.

At least, until Annabeth’s boat had _accidentally_ collided with his, and both boats had tipped, spilling half a dozen kids into the water.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Percy catches a glimpse of Chase’s blond curls, from where she sits at the Ravenclaw table with McLean and some of her other friends. He feels a surge of surprise; he always assumed she sat at the Slytherin table, but then again he’s never really paid attention. They got into fights in the halls, in the classrooms, on the way to class or after getting stuck on a moving staircase. Never in the Great Hall, and never has he noticed that she sat at other house tables, just like him.

After all the first-years have been sorted and Headmaster Chiron’s speech, the Marauders begin to head towards their separate dorms. Percy whistles on his way to the Gryffindor dorms when a familiar, yet unexpected blonde steps in front of him, hands on her slim waist.

“Chase,” he says, surprised, before adding a mocking tone to his voice. “Aren’t you afraid of getting lost, so far from your Slytherin hideout?”

She tilts her chin up a notch. “Jackson,” she says haughtily. “I just came to remind you that we have a prefect’s meeting tomorrow morning at eight.”

Percy rolls his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “I _know,_ Chase. You don’t have to remind me constantly. Just because you don’t think I’m going to take being a prefect seriously doesn’t mean I won’t, okay? I’m going to do this job, whether or not you think I’m worthy of it.”

Normally, they’d have their wands out by now, curses and jinxes flying, but instead Annabeth just twists her hands together, and her voice is smaller than he’s ever heard it. “I know,” she says meekly. “I—Percy, I never said you were going to be a bad prefect. In fact, I think you’ll be a good one.”

That takes him by complete surprise, and he’s about to retort when he thinks back and realizes that she _hasn’t;_ in the prefect meeting on the train, she addressed him cordially, listened to him as he talked, and he honestly can’t remember if he paid her the same courtesy or not.

He had expected that she was going to doubt him, to make him feel inferior, to tell him he wouldn’t be a good prefect or wouldn’t take the job seriously, and instead, here she’s telling him she thinks he’s going to be a _good_ one?

“Uh, thanks,” he responds, rubbing the back of his neck. “You too?”

She smiles tightly. “I also wanted to say—I’m sorry about earlier, okay? I just—I want you to know that while we’ve been fighting all these years, it’s just because you’re an arse—” he snorts, “and I promise, it has nothing to do with that fact that you’re muggleborn, okay?” She looks up at him, her eyes deceptively innocent. “I don’t—I don’t care about blood status. It shouldn’t even be an issue, and I never thought that _you_ thought that I hated you because of it.”

Percy is completely stunned, because _yes,_ that’s exactly what he’s thought, all these years. Her mum, while not being outright about it, has definitely made veiled comments in the past about the importance of blood purity, and he’s always just assumed Annabeth took after the same conservative, traditional views of her mother.

“Okay,” he manages finally, still blinking in surprise. “Um. Okay.”

She flashes a bright smile at him, and Percy realizes two very important things in the space of a millisecond: one, it’s the first time she’s ever purposely smiled at him, and two—

He can see why she has the entire school under her spell, because that smile is _mesmerizing._

“That’s all I wanted you to know,” she says, and her smile is shy as she ducks her head, but Percy can’t take his eyes off it, and he’s pretty sure he’s grinning at her, too, and then—

“Percy! I thought I’d never find you,” Jason pants, running up the stairs. “I was going to remind you about the prefect meeting tomorrow, and—” his gaze falls on Annabeth, and his mouth falls open. “Annabeth? What are you doing here?”

Her smile gone, Annabeth nods tightly. “I’ll be seeing you both tomorrow,” she says stiffly, and while it’s normal, it’s familiar, it’s completely _different_ than the Annabeth he just saw, the side of her that he’s never seen before. “Good night,” she adds courteously, spinning on her heel and marching briskly down the hallway.

“What the hell was _that,_ ” Jason breathes, both boys watching her go. “Annabeth Chase, talking to you without both of you ending up in the hospital wing? For the _second_ time today _?_ ”

Percy shrugs, feeling a bewildering mix of confusion and warmth spreading through his body. “I still have no idea.”


	2. chapter 2

Thankfully, they slip back into their normal habits the next morning at the prefects meeting.

The other prefects and the Heads just sigh and roll their eyes when Percy and Annabeth begin arguing about what prefects should take which rounds—that argument only lasts a few minutes, but then the subject of Quidditch and working around the practices to complete prefect duties comes up, and they’re at it again, bickering about the tiniest things.

For once, though, Percy isn’t actually _angry,_ as he argues what time the Gryffindor team gets practices, and _for God’s sake, Chase, just because you’re the princess of the school doesn’t mean the Slytherin team can have every practice slot they want—_ and instead, it feels almost _good_ to argue about the smallest of things, to make her cheeks flush with indignation and feel his blood spike as she insults him.

It’s a very strange feeling; unexpected and foreign after so many years of fighting with her, thinking she looked down on him because of his blood status. He doesn’t completely believe her little speech from the night before—her mum is the _Minister for Magic_ and the Chases are descended from Salazar Slytherin himself, of course she probably has some feelings of superiority over his muggleborn arse—but still. Seeing that side of her—vulnerable, shy, the normal ice in her eyes melted—had done something to him, something he never would have expected.

Under different circumstances—i.e., not having been arch-enemies for over four years—he feels like they probably could have become good friends.

Their argument ends when Malcom Pace, the head boy, sighs pointedly. “Jackson, Chase,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose, “can we get back to business, please? Some of us have class in less than an hour.”

Annabeth leans back, folding her arms. “Fine,” she says. “Jackson, we’ll finish this later.”

Percy gulps. “Fine.”

The rest of the meeting goes smoothly, except when Percy makes a pointed comment about Annabeth’s privilege, and Annabeth beginning to protest heatedly before Malcom wearily slams his hands on the table and _bloody hell, let the rest of us finish the meeting, already—_ and Percy decides to shut his mouth. Annabeth’s glare, unwavering at him from across the table, could probably melt steel, but he’s been enduring it for four years, and it’s nothing he can’t handle. He just crosses his arms and glares back, unrelenting.

After the meeting’s finally ended, Percy can hear her heels clicking on the floor as she strides up to him, both of them walking briskly down the hall.

“What is it, Chase?” he grouches. “I’ve got to get to Transfiguration. First class of the year; I don’t want to be late.”

Annabeth raises her eyebrows. “That’s never seemed to stop you before,” she remarks.

“What?”

“Oh, like last year on the first day of classes when you... _Marauders—_ ” she forces out the nickname with a grimace, “managed to sneak a hive of Hagrid’s bees into Arithmancy and let them loose as a prank.”

Percy turns to her, wide eyed. “Keep your voice down!” he hisses frantically. “No one knows for sure we did that, and if Professor McGonagall finds one more piece of evidence that it was us, we’ll be serving detention for at least a month.” He surveys her critically. “How did you find out, anyway?”

She rolls her eyes. “Please. You and your friends are the _Marauders._ Who else would have the means—or the willingness, for that matter—to let an entire hive of bees loose in the castle? You act like it was hard to figure out.”

Percy scowls. “Whatever.” He glances over at her. “Don’t you have class?” he asks, pointed.

Annabeth smiles, sickly-sweet. “Transfiguration, according to my schedule.”

He groans. “Of _course_ we have it together,” he says, before looking up abruptly and grabbing the piece of parchment from her hands. “Hey, let me see your schedule.”

“You’re welcome?” Annabeth snarks.

Percy ignores her, frantically skimming the schedule before groaning. “Are you joking?” He shoves the parchment back at her. “We have literally _every_ single class together! How did that happen?”

Annabeth’s eyes widen. “What?” she asks, eyes scanning the page quickly. “That’s impossible. The teachers do everything in their power _not_ to have us in the same class. For us to have the exact same schedule is—” she shakes her head. “A mistake, maybe?”

“Nothing Chiron does is a mistake,” Percy answers grouchily. “Maybe they thought that by putting us in the same classes, we’ll stop arguing.”

“In their dreams,” Annabeth mutters.

They’ve reached the Transfiguration classroom by now, and most of the other students have already arrived. Percy looks for an empty desk—preferably in the back, by himself, since none of the other Marauders are in this class—but there’s only one empty desk, in the front.

He reaches the identical conclusion as Annabeth at the exact same time, and they look up at each other in horror as it dawns on them.

_They’ll have to share a desk._

“No way,” Percy says, just as Annabeth blurts, “Not happening.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Well. At least we agree on _something._ ”

Annabeth marches up to Professor McGonagall, who’s sitting at her desk in the front, busily scribbling on a piece of parchment. Percy follows, just because he has nothing else to do. “Professor, I think there’s been a mistake,” she says sweetly.

The older woman looks up, her spectacles perched on her nose. “Miss Chase! I was wondering when you would arrive. Please, take a seat.”

“But that’s the problem, Professor,” Annabeth explains. “Jackson and I _can’t_ share a desk. You know that.”

McGonagall raises her eyebrows imperturbably. “Miss Chase, there’s been no mistake. I’m sure you and Mr. Jackson will be able to survive the year as desk partners.”

Annabeth’s cheeks are red with indignation, and her fists clench by her sides, but she purses her lips and spins on her heel, sliding onto the left side of the bench.

Percy groans inwardly, sitting down on the right and determinedly not looking at Annabeth as he takes out his books. This is going to be interesting.




It happens _every single class._

All throughout the week, Percy and Annabeth are made to sit at the same desk. It doesn’t matter the class—Arithmancy, Potions, Defense against the Dark Arts—the professors _always_ have an excuse for making the two arch-rivals sit together, or be partners in the first project of the term, or work on the in-class lessons together.

By Tuesday, rumors have spread all over the school about what’s happening—Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson are definitely some of the most (if not the most) popular, high-profile students in the school, and their rivalry is as well-known as the Marauders’ infamous pranks. Of course rumors are flying when suddenly both of them are constantly together.

“So apparently you and Annabeth had a summer fling and then she dumped you, but you want her back so you’re following her around constantly,” Grover reports on Wednesday afternoon, as the four Marauders are getting their lunch in the Great Hall.

Percy groans as he picks apart a buttered roll. “Yesterday it was that Chase and I are sleeping together and her parents have disowned her for even speaking to me, and Monday we were apparently bribing her to help with the Marauders next prank.” He spreads his arms emphatically, forgetting that he has a spoon full of soup in one hand; Jason, sighing, grabs a napkin and starts mopping broth from his hair.

Leo snaps his fingers. “That reminds me! Lads, we must start planning our next prank. I was thinking at the first Quidditch match of the year—”

Percy ignores him. “It’s not even _her_ fault, as much as I would like to blame her. The professors have gone completely mental. We have so many projects due that we have to work on together—which means spending most of my studying time with her—that it’ll be a wonder if we don’t bloody murder each other before the week’s out.”

“I give it two weeks,” Jason wagers.

“You’re on, Grace,” Leo says, and they shake hands.

“ _Not_ helping,” Percy says, sulky.

“Not helping what?”

Percy’s head snaps up at the all-too-familiar voice. “Chase!” he hisses. “What are you doing at our table?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “I’m just a few chairs down, sitting with Piper and Hazel,” she says. “I just came to ask you about the project for Transfiguration. I was thinking that you could do the essay, and I could do the hands-on work with the presentation?”

“No, I want to do the presentation,” Percy answers, biting into his roll for the sole purpose of annoying her by talking with his mouth full. “You know I’m rubbish with Transfiguration; I hate maths, and McGonagall mentioned that the essay would have to include some of the equations she was teaching on Monday.”

Annabeth sighs loudly. “Didn’t you _listen_ to what she was saying? Honestly, Jackson, if you even paid the slightest attention in class, then maybe you’d be able to do the equations better—”

“Just because I’m not a teacher’s pet and don’t write every single _word_ of the lecture down doesn’t mean I don’t listen!”

“You could have fooled _me_ , seeing as you were just doodling in your workbook and laughing whenever I asked a question—”

“Probably because you never _stopped_ asking questions—”

“Again, may I please point out that I am actually attempting to _learn,_ while you’re doing the barest minimum you can to get by in your studies—”

“I do _not_ , you take that back, Chase—” and then their wands are out and in the confusion Percy isn’t quite sure what happens, but after the sparks have died down Annabeth’s eyebrows are hot pink and Percy’s _pretty_ sure his ears will stop wiggling in the future, but who knows, with whatever jinx Annabeth used.

The entire Great Hall has gone silent, hundreds of students watching eagerly. The rest of the Marauders and Annabeth’s friends, on the other hand, continue to eat their lunch, unperturbed; Percy supposes they’ve gotten used to this by now.

“Jackson! Chase!” A booming voice interrupts whatever Annabeth was about to say. Professor McGonagall strides over to them, a deep frown on her face and her wand at the ready. “Whatever is the meaning of this?”

“I was just trying to talk to Percy about our project—” Annabeth begins, as Percy pipes up, “She was insulting my intellect—” and they both glare at each other.

McGonagall pinches the bridge of her nose. “Detention. Both of you.”

Annabeth sputters, but Percy knows it was bound to happen sometime. “Brilliant,” he says. “Will it give me time to explain that we—” he gestures to himself and Annabeth, “should not be placed in all the same classes, or be forced to sit with each other or be partners?”

McGonagall raises her eyebrows. “On the contrary, this incident has simply strengthened my resolve. Hopefully if you two are forced to work with each other, you can work out your differences _outside_ of my classroom, instead of wasting other students and teachers’ time with your petty arguments.” She turns on her heel, her long robe billowing out behind her.

Percy and Annabeth stare after her, both their mouths open in shock.

“So. That didn’t go as well as I hoped,” Percy says finally, still staring at the exit of the Great Hall where McGonagall had disappeared.

Annabeth swallows. “No, it really didn’t.” She sighs, turning to him and raising a magenta-colored eyebrow. “We don’t have class until four. Do you want to go to the library to work on the project?”

Percy crosses his arms stubbornly, trying to ignore the incessant wiggling of his ears. “Only if I get to do the presentation.”

“Bloody hell, _fine,_ if that’s the way you’re going to be about it,” Annabeth huffs. “Come on, may as well get this over with.”




It’s only about a month into the school year when Percy decides to make the best of their situation.

He and Annabeth are together _constantly,_ whether deskmates or partners in class, to working together on projects or assignments that the professors make them do together. At first, they both bucked against it—finding every excuse to not work with each other, and when they had to, curses and jinxes flew until both of them had to spend hours in the hospital wing. But as Annabeth’s perfect grades began to drop and both of their teams’ Quidditch practice slots were revoked by McGonagall until they could _start bloody getting along,_ in her words—well, they decided that it was mutually beneficial to spend less time fighting and more time grudgingly working together.

Which leads them to the library on a rainy, late September afternoon, working on a Transfiguration project and arguing loudly.

“I don’t think that equation’s in the right place,” Annabeth frets, pen scratching furiously.

“Trust me, princess, it is,” Percy replies, bending over the work. “See, look, if it were here, then those elements wouldn’t add up.”

That’s another thing that’s changed. Percy calls her _princess_ , she protests until her cheeks are flushed with indignation, and he just grins until she gives up. The process has repeated itself numerous times throughout the former weeks, but today apparently Annabeth is too focused to even notice.

She furrows her eyebrows, scrutinizing the scribbled equations on the parchment, before nodding thoughtfully. “You’re right,” she admits, glancing up at him. “You know, Percy, all these years I thought you just weren’t smart enough to get good grades or care about school, but you’re honestly brilliant.”

Percy blinks in surprise—it’s probably the first compliment of any sorts that she’s ever given him, and it’s a bit of a shock. “Um. Thanks?” he tries, gulping. “You’re—I mean, you’re pretty smart too, Chase. I mean, you already knew that, but.”

Annabeth smiles shyly, head ducking back down. “Thanks, Percy,” she says, quiet, and Percy feels the shift in the air, and he doesn’t really understand it, so he ignores it and plows ahead.

“So I suppose a pureblood like yourself has never really been exposed to muggle culture, right?” he asks, grinning at her.

Annabeth raises her eyebrows. “Not really,” she admits. “I’ve just—I’ve always grown up in the magical world. I’ve never really been with muggles.”

“Then it is definitely time to get you started,” Percy declares. “For a bookworm like yourself, I would suggest Tolkien, or maybe Shakespeare. I, personally, am more of a movie person, so—”

She looks amused. “What’s a movie?”

Percy groans. “Chase, you are _hopeless,_ ” he says. “Okay, so a movie’s like—a wizard picture that moves, only they’re long—like an hour, sometimes two or three—and they tell an entire story.”

Annabeth leans forward. “Intriguing. So what are your favorite movies, Percy?”

“Well, I like _Bambi,_ because I used to, uh, watch it with my mum when I was little, and I’d always cry at that one part where—”

“No spoilers!” Annabeth shrieks, putting her fingers in her ears.

Percy raises an eyebrow. “So you _do_ know some Muggle lingo,” he says, impressed.

Annabeth blushes. “I’ve studied Muggle culture before, but never really in depth,” she explains. “But if you’re a… _movie_ person, as you say, then how do you know what books I might like?”

Percy rubs the back of his neck, inexplicably embarrassed. “Um. My mum—she’s a muggle, obviously, and she loves reading, and every Christmas I get her whatever title she’s been wanting. We don’t really have a lot of money, and she spends a lot of it on my tuition and supplies each year. Most of the time she can’t afford to get her own books, so I get them for her with whatever money I’ve earned over the summer.”

Annabeth’s smile is soft; she’s begun smiling sometimes, during study sessions, or when she finds something funny in class, and Percy’s begun unconsciously categorizing the smiles of Annabeth Chase. He’s seen the haughty one, where she gets something right and she knows it; he’s seen her shy smile, after an unexpected compliment from a teacher; he’s seen her happy smile, when she gets an assignment back with a perfect score. This smile on her face right now is one he’s never seen before; it’s tender, small, soft, even a little— _affectionate,_ almost. It sends a little thrill through him, before he quickly stuffs it down.

“Percy, that’s—that’s really sweet,” she says, her fingers grazing his arm hesitantly. They aren’t friends—in fact, if they weren’t made to spend most of their time together, they’d probably still be arch-enemies—but it’s moments like these, where it feels like _almost,_ or what could have been.

Percy likes these moments more than he cares to admit.

He ducks his head, not meeting her eyes, but unable to stop the shy smile from spreading across his own face. “Thanks, princess.”

She looks like she’s about to say something more, but a group of giggling first-years pass by their table, pointing fingers at the two of them and whispering, and the moment is lost. She withdraws her hand from his arm hastily, and he leans back in his chair and wipes the smile from his face.

They work on the project in silence for a few more minutes before Percy glances up.

“There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he begins, drumming his fingers on the table restlessly.

Annabeth’s hand stills from where she’s furiously scribbling down notes on her parchment. “Yes?”

He clears his throat. “For years, my friend Grover—you know who Grover is, right?”

She laughs a little. “Percy, you’re the Marauders. Of course I know who Grover is.”

“Good. So anyway, for years, Grover goes home every month. He’s always said it’s his mum getting sick, or his dad has had an accident, or one of his siblings needs help—but it’s fairly regular, and he always comes back looking a little sick,” Percy finishes. “You’re smart, and you read books like _these—_ ” he thumps his hand against one of the thick textbooks sprawling across the table they’re sitting at, “for fun. So I was wondering, do you have any idea of what he could really be doing?”

Annabeth glances up at him, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Percy, why don’t you just talk to him yourself?”

“I’ve tried!” Percy answers, spreading his hands. “All of us—the other Marauders, I mean—have tried. But he closes up whenever anybody asks him, and all these years we’ve just thought, let’s leave him alone, maybe he’ll tell us eventually—but he _won’t,_ and none of us can figure it out.”

Annabeth’s biting her lip now and refusing to look at him. “Percy… that’s Grover’s business. I can’t tell a secret that’s not mine to tell.” 

He gapes at her. “You mean, you _know?_ ”

She smiles sadly at him. “For years, I’ve been studying you and your friends, trying to get more information on our feud, or come up with different jinxes, or see how you act around other people. I guess—I guess I got more than I bargained for.” She stands up, beginning to shove her books into her bag. “It’s not that hard to figure out, Percy, but if you really want to know, then talk to him yourself. Not me.”

Percy’s mouth is still open, and he’s trying to process how Chase— _Annabeth_ _Chase_ , his previous arch-nemesis and princess of the school—knows a secret about one of his _best friends_ before he does—but he jumps up as she leaves, grabbing her arm.

“Chase, please,” he says, and for once there’s no mocking or heat in his words. He’s just begging, pleading, because after all these years he could finally know what’s the matter with his friend, could maybe try to help him—“ _Please_.”

She looks at him steadily. “Talk to your friend, Percy. Then talk to me.”

His hand drops from her arm, and he watches her go, a feeling of defeat rising in his chest.

Then Percy’s chin comes up. He’s going to talk to Grover, and he’s going to figure out this mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my uploading schedule will be probably wednesdays and either saturdays or sundays depending on my schedule. hope y'all enjoyed and thanks for all the positive feedback so far!! :))  
> wm


	3. chapter 3

The next week, Percy bursts into the library and slams his hands on the table where Annabeth's working, earning him a furious glare from the librarian. "He's a—" he starts, before lowering his voice. "He's a werewolf!"

Annabeth's head snaps up. "Keep your voice down," she hisses frantically. "If that were to get out—"

Percy sits down in a chair across from her. "You _knew,_ " he accuses. "This whole time, all these years—"

"Well, actually I figured it out the beginning of second year," Annabeth admits.

He waves his hand. "Whatever. The point it—Chase, how did you figure it out three years before I did?"

She shrugs, twisting her quill between her fingers. "It wasn't that hard. His excuses were horrible, and like you said, all the teachers seemed to know what was going on. He also goes home every day before the full moon and returns the day after. Honestly, how you _didn't_ find out before this is a mystery to me."

Percy slumps in his chair. "But what am I supposed to do now?" he asks.

"Nothing," she replies immediately. "If he hasn't told you, then he obviously doesn't want you to know. And if it were to get out to the other students that a werewolf's in their midst, well—parents would be pulling their kids out of school, people would start rioting with all their anti-werewolf propaganda. You have to keep this quiet."

"I _know_ that," Percy answers, scowling. "But Chase—he's my _best friend._ I can't just leave him alone, now that I know! Where does he go every month, is it painful, how many of the teachers know, is there anything we can do to help—" he pauses, glancing at her, scrutinizing. "Also, I know for a fact that your mother is _very_ anti-werewolf, and your father's been quite vocal about it as well in _The Daily Prophet._ Why didn't you go running to them as soon as you found out?"

Annabeth looks taken aback. "Jackson, I know you hate me, but I would never do such a thing. My parents' views are—old-fashioned and stupid. Sure, obviously there's the occasional werewolf that deliberately hunts for humans and turns them, but for the most part, werewolves can't help the way they are, and do everything in their power to keep others safe. The idea that it's _their fault,_ or whatever screwed-up crap my parents or anyone else spews, is idiotic and uninformed."

Percy's jaw drops. Here's another side of Annabeth Chase, another side he's never know _existed._ An unknown side to this girl he's been fighting with since their time at Hogwarts began, and now she's telling him she's kept the secret of one of his best friends for three years? It's—just completely bewildering, to say the least.

"I don't—I don't hate you," he manages finally.

Annabeth raises a perfect eyebrow. "That's what you got out of that speech?" she quips.

Percy ignores her. "Chase, I mean it. I mean, we've had our differences throughout the years, and I thought I hated you because you were _perfect,_ and had everything in your life handed to you, and your family is perfect, and—well, _everything._ But I don't. Not anymore."

Annabeth huffs out a laugh. "And a month of having to be with me constantly has changed your mind? After _four years?_ "

Percy bites his lip. "You're—you're different, somehow," he admits. "Before, you always were the ice princess. Your face always looked the same, always cold, and perfect, but now—"

"What, now I've let down my guard a little bit, and you've realized I'm human?" Annabeth drawls. "If this were a story, we'd be halfway in love already."

Percy scowls at her. "I just _meant_ that you're—well, you're downright decent," he declares. "And I know—well, we're not friends or anything, after just a month, but. Maybe we could work together? And not just for school, I mean—to help Grover." He looks at her pleadingly. "I know I've said some hurtful things in the past—we both have, but. Clean slate?" He holds out his hand hopefully.

Annabeth's eyes narrow, studying his outstretched hand. "Alright," she finally, and takes his hand firmly. Her skin is cool and soft, and Percy lets himself smile. "I'll do some research and try to figure out if there's a way you can help Grover. I'm not promising to, I don't know, be friends, or even try particularly hard to _like_ you, but—"

"That's just fine with me," Percy replies, grinning as he shakes her hand. "See you later in Divination?"

She sighs. "As if I could forget it."

Percy grins. "See you then." He grabs his bookbag and turns, only to glance over his shoulder. "Thanks, princess," he says, soft.

She smiles at him. "You're welcome, Percy."

•

"So we're meeting Annabeth Chase, your arch-nemesis and the princess of the school, in a _broom closet?_ " Leo drawls. "Classy, Jackson."

Percy scowls at his friend, leaning against the wall of the closet. "Shut up, Leo. We've been working together on a—a _project,_ that concerns Grover, and you guys need to hear the research she's been doing."

Jason pushes his glasses up his nose. "Can't _you_ just tell us what's the matter with Grover? Why does Annabeth need to be involved?"

Percy crosses his arms stubbornly. "She's been helping me the past couple weeks, and we've agreed to stop fighting and work together."

"Percy, you two have been fighting for _four years,_ " Jason pleads. "I don't trust her, especially not with something personal about Grover."

"She's known for years, and she's never told a soul," Percy insists. "She wouldn't even tell _me—_ I had to go through the calendar, find all the full moons and then I saw how they coincided with Grover's absences, and—"

"What does the full moon have to do with Grover…?" Jason asks, before trailing off, looking stricken. "Oh. _Oh._ How did we not think of that before?"

Percy sighs. "Yeah."

"What? What?" Leo squawks.

Just then, the closet door opens, letting in a stream of light from the hall outside, and Annabeth's golden head appears. "Hello," she says, a little hesitantly; Leo and Jason look a little wary, but Percy grabs her arm.

"She knows how to help Grover," he says firmly. "And we're not—we're not really fighting anymore? I think."

Annabeth rolls her eyes. "Eloquent."

"Shut up."

Leo and Jason just survey them, looking befuddled.

Annabeth takes a deep breath and smooths down her perfectly-ironed emerald skirt nervously. "So, do you all know what exactly is the matter with Grover?" she asks.

Jason bites his lip. "I think I have an idea."

"I, on the other hand, have _no_ idea," Leo announces.

Percy sits down on the floor, motioning for the others to do so also. "Grover's a werewolf," he says, and watches his friends' faces as they process.

"It all makes sense now," Leo exclaims. "All the times he would go home, and then come back looking sick, and his stupid excuses, and the teachers seeming to know what was happening…"

Annabeth nods seriously. "Exactly. The good news is, Percy asked me to do some research on how we can help him."

Percy tries not to smile at the _we,_ but his lips twitch anyway.

"Werewolves have always been known to attack _humans._ Never animals," Annabeth begins, tucking a curl behind her ear.

"So what, we all just become animals?" Leo jokes.

Annabeth surveys him steadily, and Leo's laughter fades as her meaning dawns on him. "Oh."

"Wait, you want us to become _animagi?_ " Jason realizes. He jumps up. "No way. We _can't._ Becoming illegal animagi is punishable by years in Azkaban, not to mention a hugely complicated spells and potions and research and—"

"First, I have all the research and spells required to begin the process," Annabeth says calmly. "I will have to do a lot more—all of us will—but we have a good foundation. Secondly—"

"Wait a second," Percy interjects. "Thank you for doing this and all, Chase, but Grover's _our_ friend. You keep saying _we,_ like you're going to become one too."

Annabeth raises her eyebrows. "If I'm going to be doing most of the work, then I'm going to be in this all the way," she replies crisply.

Leo's face is clouded. "Chase, this is a personal matter. And like Percy said, we appreciate you researching this for us, but—"

" _But_ nothing, Valdez," Annabeth snaps. "I've kept your friend's secret for over three years now. Even in the worst of fights between Percy and myself, I never even _once_ considered telling a soul about it in order to hurt him." She surveys all three of them steadily. "If you're going to do this, you're going to need all the help you can get, and that includes me. I know…I haven't been the most _polite_ to all of you, especially Percy, these last four years, but—"

"Understatement," Leo scoffs.

She glares at him. "But I am willing to sacrifice my pride to help Grover. Just because I do not enjoy the Marauders' company does not mean I'm willing to just let an innocent werewolf suffer by himself, not now that I have a means to help him."

"You still haven't completely explained what that _means_ is," Jason points out, cautiously sitting down again.

Annabeth takes a deep breath, pulling on her green and silver tie distractedly. "Like I said, werewolves have never been known to attack animals. But research has also shown that they do better in packs."

"Packs of what? Werewolves?" Leo asks.

She shakes her head. "It doesn't matter the animal. It just helps werewolves to remain calm and not attack themselves—or anyone else, for that matter—if they're surrounded by other animals."

"So… we become animagi, and then what?" Percy ventures into the conversation. "We don't even know where Grover goes every month, or which of the professors know. We'll also need a place to work on animagi research, since obviously we can't just do this sort of stuff in the library, or any of our common rooms."

"Well, we actually _do_ know where Grover goes," Annabeth supplies. "I… I may or may not have followed him, when I first found out back in second year. He uses a secret passageway under the Whomping Willow, which leads to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade."

Percy stares. "You—at twelve years old—followed a _werewolf_ to see where he transformed? What the hell, Chase. You've got balls."

Annabeth's shy smile lights up her face as she ducks her head. "Um. Thanks. Also, I found out that both Chiron and McGonagall know, but I don't know if any of the other professors do."

"This has been—really helpful, Annabeth," Jason admits. "As hesitant as I am to break the law, I'm willing to do anything to help Grover."

"Me, too," Leo pipes up. "I'm not saying I trust you completely yet, but—"

"You don't have to trust me," Annabeth says. "You just have to believe that I'm trying to help. I'm not doing any of this for you three; I'm doing this for Grover."

The three of them nod solemnly.

"Do you have any ideas for where we could meet? A broom closet isn't going to cut it," Percy asks.

Annabeth looks up as she grabs her bag and throws her blazer over one shoulder. "Not yet, but I have an idea. I'll tell you if it works." She glances at all of them over her shoulder as she opens the door, letting in a stream of light. "If I have anything to report, I'll tell Percy and he can gather you two. God knows we spend enough time together."

Percy feels a smile twitch on his lips. "Thanks, princess," he says, slouching against the doorframe and looking down at her. Her grey eyes sparkle in the light as she raises her eyebrows, a small smile on her own face.

"You're welcome, Percy."

•

"I found a place to meet to discuss Grover's… condition," Annabeth greets him a few days later as they settle into a table in the library.

Percy winces as he gets out his books. "Don't call it his _condition,_ that sounds weird," he protests, mild.

"What should I call it then?" Annabeth inquires dryly. "His furry little problem?"

Percy snaps his fingers. "That's it!"

She surveys him, unamused. "I was joking."

"I _know_ , Chase, but it's actually not a bad idea."

Annabeth shrugs, leaning forward and grabbing her wand to mop up a bit of ink she had spilled. "Whatever you say. I don't really care."

"Good, then. I win," Percy says smugly, and he's expecting her to contradict him just because, to begin an argument about nothing like they normally do, but instead she just sighs, running her hand through her hair tiredly.

He leans forward. "Hey, Chase. You alright? You're looking a little bit tired."

Normally, he knows that would have earned him a glare, but today she just looks up at him. "I… I was up late last night, studying for Slughorn's test today," she admits, wearily pushing a stray curl behind her ear. There are lavender circles under her eyes, and she looks pale, withdrawn. "I also forgot to eat breakfast, and then I didn't make it down to lunch, either, so I haven't eaten. I'll be fine."

"You can't just _forget_ to eat," he says, exasperated.

She shrugs, slightly apologetic. "When I'm working on something, everything else gets pushed to the back of my mind. I know it's not healthy—trust me, I've gotten lectures from my mum on this—but I can't help it." Annabeth glances at him, looking a little amused. "Seriously Percy. I'll be fine when after I eat dinner and get to bed early."

He scoffs unbelievingly, shaking his head. "Knowing you, you'll get so caught up in this project you'll be in the library until midnight and realize then you haven't eaten anything," he points out, and from Annabeth's guilty expression he knows he's right.

He also knows that this is _Annabeth Chase_ , and she doesn't accept help, doesn't like to show signs of weakness, even just being human, especially not to him.

He quickly unwraps a sugar quill he smuggled from Hogsmeade a few weeks back and bites into it, relishing the crunch of pure sweetness, while casually taking out another one from his bag. "Here, these'll perk you up," he says, offering her one.

Her grey eyes light up as she takes it, a little hesitantly. "Sugar does help wake me up," she admits, biting into it. Percy watches as stray crystals of sugar sparkle on her lip.

"I also grabbed a couple extra scones from lunch, but I'm not hungry and they're going to get stale in my bag," he lies easily, grabbing the bread from where it's tied tightly in a napkin inside a pocket in his knapsack. "Do you want one?"

He can see her debating inwardly before hunger wins out, and she reluctantly takes a biscuit from his outstretched hand, quickly touching it with her wand and a murmured spell to warm it up; Percy follows her example and does the same.

They eat their scones in a comfortable silence before Percy snaps his fingers. "You never told me about where we were going to meet," he accuses her, his mouth full.

"Oh, I forgot," Annabeth says, surprised. "Probably because you interrupted me with your petty opinions of what we should call Grover's condition—"

"Furry little problem."

"Exactly," she replies, exasperated. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

He waves his hand. "Go on."

She sighs. "Alright, so for the past few years, I've been using a room on the seventh floor to study—among other things. Anyway, it's called the Room of Requirement, and it's basically there for whatever you need it to be."

Percy raises his eyebrows. "Say what?"

Annabeth gestures wildly as she explains. "See, you just have to say, _I need a room to study in,_ or _I need a room to sleep in,_ or whatever you need, and the room will modify itself to suit your needs. Hardly anyone knows about it, and I'm pretty sure I'm one of the only people who actually uses it."

"Interesting," Percy says thoughtfully.

"However, I was wary at first about using it for the research and testing to become Animagi, because what if someone decided to use the room at the same time, and we were in it?" she continues. "So I ran a few tests, and I found that we just have to be specific. Like, _I need a room to study to become an Animagus,_ and obviously no one else is going to be using that specific essence of the room. Not to mention, it also supplies books and potion ingredients specifically suited for our needs, so we won't have to cart loads of parchment and caldrons and all that up there."

"That's incredible, Chase," Percy says wonderingly. "That's—I mean, it's perfect."

"You're welcome." She looks pleased, and smug, and he thinks she has a right to be.

He just leans back and grins at her. "So when do we tell Jason and Leo?"

"Whenever you want to really begin, I guess," she says, shrugging. "Obviously we all have a lot of work with classes and projects and essays and all that, but the sooner we get started, the sooner we'll actually get somewhere."

Percy nods, and watches as she goes back to her books, before he reaches across the table and touches her hand, on impulse. "I know I said thank you before, Chase," he says softly, "but really. Thank you. For all of this."

She smiles. "You're welcome, Percy."


	4. chapter 4

“Thank you all for coming, and Happy Halloween!” Percy shouts, finishing his speech and jumping down from the table. The packed crowd inside the Gryffindor common room roars in approval, the loud screeching of the music unable to mask the laughter and shouting from the hundreds of students, dancing and downing pumpkin firewhiskey shots (courtesy of Leo).

Percy jumps down from the table and saunters around to where the other Marauders are standing. “Turned out pretty good this year, dontcha think?” he drawls, looking out over the crowd.

Grover sighs wearily. “You say that every year, Percy.”

Percy shrugs, unapologetic. “Every year I mean it,” he says, grinning. “Jason, what are your plans for the rest of the evening?”

“I’ll probably just monitor how many people are taking advantage of the firewhiskey,” Jason replies dryly.

“First, you really need to get the guts to tell McLean how you feel about her,” Percy says, throwing his arm over his friend’s shoulder. “A party is one of the best places to hook up, and if more happens after that, well.”

Jason shrugs, a little bashful as his sky blue gaze flits across the room to where Piper McLean is dancing with one of her friends—Percy thinks her name is Hazel—and bouncing to the music, her dark hair waving wildly as she spins. Percy still hasn’t got over a few months before, when her wand had broken his nose, but. _He_ doesn’t have to date her, and he knows she’s Annabeth’s best friend, so. If Jason ever actually makes a move, he’ll be happy for his friend.

(And make very certain not to make Piper McLean angry.)

“And two,” he continues, “no one fourth year and below was invited, so why do you have to babysit the firewhiskey?”

Leo raises his eyebrows mischievously. “We’ve been holding the Marauder’s Halloween party since second year, Perce. Obviously not _everyone’s_ fifth year and up.”

Percy shrugs. “They knew what they were coming for.”

“To get completely and utterly piss-drunk?” a new voice asks, and the four Marauders whip their heads around to find Annabeth walking towards them. She, along with everyone else in the crowd, has gotten a little dressed up for the occasion; she’s wearing a short, tight black dress that shows more than enough skin for Percy’s liking. There are high black stiletto heels on her feet and her hair’s piled up on top of her head; she’s wearing black eyeliner, and in short, looks nothing like the perfect Annabeth Chase he’s used to seeing.

Percy lets his eyes flit shamelessly over her curves, and she raises her eyebrows at him.

“Just appreciating the view,” he drawls in answer. “Never thought I’d see you here, Chase, at one of the famous Marauder Halloween parties.”

She shrugs, looking a little shy for once. “Just thought I’d come and see what all the hype was about,” she quips. “I must say, I’m rather impressed.”

“We live to please,” Percy says, bowing dramatically.

She surprises him with a small laugh. “I must say you do,” she admits. Annabeth turns to the other Marauders, who have been quietly talking among themselves during the exchange. “And I suppose you all had a part in bringing copious amounts of stolen firewhiskey up here?”

Jason raises his eyebrows. “ _I_ had nothing to do with it,” he says innocently. “That was all Grover and Leo.”

“What can I say, we’re talented,” Leo says, spreading his hands grandly.

“And I can levitate much better than he can,” Grover interjects. His pale face is flushed from heat of the packed bodies.

Annabeth dips her head, laughing. “That, I don’t doubt.”

“Have you even taken advantage of all that firewhiskey, Chase?” Percy asks, raising an eyebrow.

Annabeth looks vaguely alarmed. “No, I’m just fine, I promise—”

“Nonsense,” Percy declares. He holds out his hand. “Come with me, Chase. Unwind a little bit.”

Annabeth rolls her smoky grey eyes, but takes his hand and allows him to lead her away anyway. “Is there an alternative motive behind getting me, in my own words, piss drunk, or are you doing this out of the kindness of your heart?” she asks, dry.

“Both, actually,” Percy says, grinning as they near the bar table. It takes some pushing and some _excuse me’s_ and some _get your fat arse out of the way, you bloody—_ but they finally make it.

A girl wearing a short orange dress that clashes magnificently with her curly red hair winks at Percy. “You sure you just want one taste, Jackson?” she asks. “I could supply you with a lot more.”

Percy winks at her. “After the party. Meet me back here, ‘kay?”

She grins, sultry. “Sure thing.”

“Did you just make plans to hook up with your makeshift bartender?” Annabeth demands, downing her shot and grimacing. “While I was right next to you?”

“Maybe,” Percy says, grinning cheekily. “What, Chase, you want to do it instead?”

She rolls her eyes. “In your dreams.”

Percy surveys the crowd, most of which are dry-humping on the floor at this point—at least, those who haven’t passed out on the nearest available flat surface. “We are definitely still too sober for this,” he decides, and grabs two more shots, offering one to Annabeth.

“Too sober for what?” Annabeth asks, wincing as she downs the shot.

“Dancing,” Percy says firmly.

“What? No,” Annabeth answers immediately.

“Come on, Chase, it’ll be fun!” Percy replies, already feeling the alcohol beginning to numb his senses. He holds out his hand again. “Will you dance with me, m’lady?”

She rolls her eyes and takes his hand reluctantly. “Fine.”

He pulls her onto the dance floor, finding an empty spot on the crowded floor, and then they both stop, a little hesitant.

“What are you going to do now, ballroom dancing?” Annabeth asks him dryly.

“I actually hadn’t expected to get this far,” Percy admits. “My plan went as far as asking you to dance with me, and I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.”

She rolls her eyes again. Fuzzily, Percy wonders if they’d ever stick like that. It’s kind of a scary thought.

“Come on, genius,” she says, and grabs both his hands. Awkwardly, they start moving along with the rock music pounding through the room thanks to an amplified speaker charm Grover had used on Percy’s old boom box.

At first, it’s stiff, and awkward, and Percy doesn’t know exactly what to do, but then the shots they both downed start kicking in, and the alcohol makes his limbs looser and his inhibitions—little as they might have been normally—lower. They jump along to the music, screaming out the lyrics, and when Annabeth almost falls as she spins around on her heels, Percy catches her on his shoulder, and they both dissolve into breathless laughter.

The next song comes on, and Percy grabs her hands, and they spin, making the whole room flash bright colors, and Percy isn’t sure how two more shots end up in their hands, but somehow they’re both downing a few more and then going back to dancing.

The lights flash fuzzily, and Percy can feel the crowd around them moving, pulsing to the beat, and he hears the music above them and around them and below them, but all he can focus on is Annabeth—Annabeth waving her hands in the air, and spinning him around, and laughing like a child, breathless and exhilarated.

They exit the Gryffindor common room after a while, both sweaty and laughing and breathing heavy. They pass a few other couples in the halls, some people making out against the walls or stumbling as they go back to their own common rooms.

“I think… I think I’m piss drunk,” Annabeth announces, wobbling on her stilettos, before breaking into giggles again.

“I think we both are,” Percy agrees.

Annabeth stops and looks down at her shoes, pouting. “Percy. _Percy._ I can’t walk. I think I’m going to take off my shoes.”

“That’s a good idea,” Percy observes, watching intently as she plops down on the floor and tries to remove the heels.

“I forgot… how buckles work. Percy, I think I forgot how _buckles_ work,” Annabeth giggles.

He laughs, sitting down on the floor next to her. “Here just—” and he struggles with the heel for a while before finally getting it undone. “See?” he announces, sitting back on his heels, pleased. “Simple.”

Annabeth sticks her foot out poutily. “Now the other one?” she asks.

Percy obligingly helps her with the other one, and then they both stand up, using the wall to help. “The world is… is _spinning,_ ” Annabeth says wonderingly.

“Mine too,” Percy agrees seriously. “It must be contagious.”

She dumps the heels unceremoniously on the ground and continues walking up the hall, barefoot. “Come on, Percy,” she calls over her shoulder, only wobbling slightly now that the troublesome heels are gone. “I have a place we can go.”

She leads up, up, up, and Percy can’t even count the stairs they go up until—

“The Astronomy Tower,” he realizes as they come out a small door into the clear, cold air of night. “Good thinking, Chase.”

“I know,” she says, pleased. She sits down against the stone wall, and Percy sits next to her. It’s cold—he can see their breath, coming out in cloudy huffs of white against the blackened sky—but after the hot air of the packed Gryffindor common room, it feels good.

“Where are the rest of your friends?” she asks suddenly.

Percy shrugs, uncommitted. “Jason’s probably hooking up with that pretty Ravenclaw girl he’s been crushing on for a while. Well, I used to think she was pretty. Now she’s just scary.”

Annabeth laughs. “Scary?”

“Yeah. She’s your friend… the one with the wand. When school started,” he explains, trying to think of the words. It’s kind of hard. Everything is a bit fuzzy in his head. “Piper. That’s it. Your best friend.”

Annabeth giggles a little bit. “Piper been crushing on him, too,” she admits. “For a long time.” She suddenly looks concerned. “He’s not just going to… I don’t know, sleep with her and then forget about her, is he?”

“No, Jason wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that,” Percy replies. “That’s more of a… more of a _Percy_ thing.”

Annabeth nods, leaning back against the cold stone behind them. “I know. You like… you like just being… _that,_ ” she says, waving her hand vaguely at him.

Percy laughs. “ _That?_ ”

“You know. That whole, _I’m a bad boy and I don’t care who I hurt,_ thing,” she says, deepening her voice in a horrible imitation of his.

“I don’t—I don’t sound like that!” Percy protests, breathless with laughter.

“Yes, you do!” Annabeth replies, tripping over her words in her own giggles. “You just… you put up a wall, and the whole school thinks they know you, and… and they _don’t,_ Percy. For… for such a long time, I thought I hated you, but I _don’t._ Not anymore.”

“Really?” he asks, inexplicably touched. “Why?”

She shrugs, looking down at her hands. “I’ve seen how you are. With your friends, the people you really love, and your mum—you love your mum so much, and it’s. It’s sweet. And you’re good with the younger kids, and you’re so, so smart, but you try to hide it because again—that mask you put up.” Annabeth looks up at him. “You’re actually—you’re actually a pretty nice bloke, Percy. Infuriating, sometimes, but. Nice.”

Percy laughs a little, and leans his head down against her hair. She hums, pleased, and Percy likes the feeling of her head against his cheek—her hair is soft, and pretty, and it smells like flowers. Like home. He kind of doesn’t want to move, so. He doesn’t.

They sit in silence for a while before Percy speaks up. “Hey, princess?”

Annabeth hums, snuggling closer. He can tell she’s falling asleep, even through the fuzzy effects the firewhiskey’s left in his brain. “Yes?”

“I don’t hate you anymore, either,” he tells her, honest.

She smiles sleepily. “I think you said that before, but. Thank you, Percy.”

He lets his head drop back on hers, and slowly drifts off to sleep, still smelling the flowers in Annabeth’s hair.




They wake up the next morning with stiff backs, completely deserved hangovers, and little-to-no memory of the night before.

“How the hell did we get here?” Annabeth groans, cracking her neck. She looks frantic for a minute before relaxing. “Well, we’re both completely clothed, and I don’t see any hickeys on you, so hopefully we didn’t do anything we’d… _regret_.”

“First, I have no bloody idea how we got up here,” Percy growls, shielding his eyes from the sun to look at her. Her hair is a rat’s nest, tangled on the top of her head, and her makeup is smeared around bloodshot eyes. He knows he can’t be looking much better at this point. “Second, I think—if I remember right—that I was planning to hook up with that hot bird from Divination. Jason got her to bartend last night at the party.”

“The redhead?” Annabeth inquires groggily. “Looks like that didn’t happen.”

“Who knows, at this point,” Percy shrugs. “If it happened and I don’t remember it, then I just hope it was good.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes at him. “’S a good thing it’s Saturday, or we’d be late for class,” she says, standing up stiffly. “Ugh, my head is _throbbing._ ”

“Mine, too,” Percy agrees, getting to his feet. “I need some water and a big, greasy breakfast.”

Annabeth tries to grin at him, but apparently thinks better of it, so it comes out as more of a grimace. “I have an amazing hangover spell that my dad taught me.”

Percy raises his eyebrows. “I’m going to need to take you up on that, Chase.”

“Then come on,” she says, holding out her hand in gesture of what could almost be taken as— _friendship_.

Percy blinks in surprise, and takes her hand.

.

**and that's that for this week! i think my updating will switch to once a week (wednesdays) for now. thanks for reading!**


	5. chapter 5

“Ouch!” Percy exclaims, glaring. “What was that for?”

It’s the middle of November, and it’s _cold_ outside—there’s a drizzling, icy rain that’s been falling outside for a week, now. Percy suggested they study for their Divination midterms in the Gryffindor common room, as oppose to the chilly library, and Annabeth agreed. The fires are roaring and there’s a gentle hum of other students studying and the smell of cinnamon is in the air from all the hot drinks the house-elves have brought up to combat the icy chill of outside, and Percy kind of loves it.

Annabeth glances around furtively from where she’s sitting across from him. Her feet are still swinging from the particularly hard kick she just landed on his shins. “I need to tell you and your friends something,” she hisses after deeming that no one’s listening.

Percy scowls. “We’ve been studying together for the past two hours. Why did you have to _kick_ me to tell me now?”

Annabeth shrugs, deceptively innocent. “You’re just particularly kickable, I guess.”

“Hilarious,” Percy grumbles. “I’m splitting my sides over here.” He glances at her. “When do you want to meet?”

“Why not right now?” Annabeth asks, standing up and stretching. “I need a break.” Her sweater and blouse ride up, pulling away from the trim grey skirt, and Percy sees a flash of smooth, tan skin. She notices his eyes flicking shamelessly over her outstretched form and smirks a little as she bends down to grab her books.

He drags his mind back to the conversation at hand. “Right now? We’re right in the middle of this project, Chase,” he protests, gesturing to the books and parchment sprawled all over the table.

Annabeth raises her eyebrows. “I never thought I’d see the day when _Percy Jackson_ turned down meeting a pretty girl in a broom closet,” she says, mocking. “Whatever will your reputation do?”

“First, I don’t meet girls in broom closets _that_ often,” Percy begins, scowling as he stands up and begins throwing books into his knapsack.

Annabeth begins counting on her fingers. “Rachel Dare last week. Callie Atlas the week before that, the day before the Halloween party. Patty Parkinson and Rosa Baker _both_ three weeks ago—you must have been busy, that week—Lillian Riddle the week before that, Lindsey Greengrass, before that…”

“Touché, Chase,” Percy admits as he follows Annabeth’s confident stride to the library’s exit. “But not all of those are in broom closets, okay _._ Dorm rooms and abandoned classrooms and even the loo sometimes, sure, but not _broom closets._ ”

“Consider me corrected,” Annabeth says dryly.

Percy smirks. “I’m a classy guy, Chase. What do you take me for?”

She raises her eyebrows, gaze steadily on the hall ahead of them. “Someone who’s never dated anyone, even though you could have most of the female population, and some of the male, too. Honestly, you could have just about anyone in the school, Percy—why do you just sleep around?”

Percy shrugs, a little uncomfortable discussing this subject with _Annabeth Chase,_ who, while being his former nemesis, is also recognized as one of the prettiest girls in the school. It’s not like he’d ever date _her_ or anything, but still. It’s just. _Weird._

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I just have never really dated anyone. I wouldn’t really know how to handle an actual relationship.”

“You have a lot of friend relationships,” Annabeth notes. “Dating someone’s just like that, only a little more.”

“Exactly,” Percy says. “The little more part is what I’d be worried about. I’ll stick to sleeping with a bird and then never speaking to her again, thanks.”

“Sounds like a bloody fantastic way to live,” Annabeth snarks.

“You can’t talk, Chase,” Percy says, a little heated. “Half the school worships the ground you walk on and yet you’ve never dated anyone, either. Hell, I’ve never even heard of you sleeping with a bloke—or a girl, I don’t know what you’re into.”

Annabeth raises an eyebrow with a saucy grin. “Just because you’ve never heard of it doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened,” she sings playfully.

Percy gets a sudden mental image of Annabeth against the wall of a broom closet, and in a lot less than her uniform. He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking the image away from his mind as if it had never been, because the picture of Annabeth in nothing but her green and silver tie, well—

“So the princess of the school _does_ have a naughty side,” he teases.

Annabeth’s cheeks receive a rosy tint as she ducks her head. “Something like that,” she murmurs.

The hall they’re walking down is completely empty; Percy likes taking shortcuts, and he’s shown Annabeth quite a few of them throughout the course of the last few months. No one even knows about this passageway to the second floor; the Marauders discovered it in third year, and they’ve been using it ever since.

“Unlike you, I can keep a secret about any escapades,” Annabeth says primly, jerking Percy back to the conversation at hand. “Your conquests are usually known by the entire school in a few hours.”

Percy stops walking, an idea occurring to him. “I bet you I can keep a secret,” he says, and there’s a tone in his voice that he’s never used toward her.

Annabeth’s heels stop clicking on the stone as she slows down and turns to face him. “Oh?” she says, challenging.

Percy takes a step towards her, backing her up against the stone wall. “In fact, I bet you five galleons that I could sleep with the princess of the school, right here, and no one would ever know,” he says, his voice husky.

Annabeth’s long eyelashes flutter up innocently to look at him. There’s only a few inches of space between them now, and he can smell the soft jasmine of her perfume, the hint of flowery shampoo in her long, loose curls.

“Prove it,” she says, smirking, and Percy proves it.

He takes her face in his hands and kisses her—slow, even a little sweet, at first. He brushes his lips against hers, feels her smug smile against his mouth; but then Annabeth opens her mouth, and runs her tongue against his bottom lip, and Percy pushes her against the wall, both of them breathing heavily. He pulls her closer, chases her tongue with his, nibbling her lip until she whimpers a little, and _damn,_ Percy thinks he could live on the sounds she’s making.

He tugs at her hair, tangles his finger in her long curls, and she wraps her arms around his neck, drawing him closer. The kiss is wild, and messy, and there’s spit on his chin and she’s running her hands up his shirt, fingers dancing along his back; he scatters kisses all over her face, nibbles a spot on her ear that makes her whine a little and draw closer. She bites his lip, hands straying under his shirt, and Percy groans a little.

He tips up her chin, sucks on her neck until she’s gasping and her fingers are electric along his skin and he’s begun to unbutton her shirt when she pulls back, breathless.

“This—this can only be a one-time thing,” she says, and the flush in her cheeks is one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

“One-time thing, princess,” he agrees, amiable, then he ducks his head again to press a kiss to her jaw, and unbuttons the rest of her shirt.




It is definitely not a one-time thing.

Almost every available chance—abandoned classrooms, empty halls, secret passageways—they meet up in between classes and study dates and hanging out with friends.

Percy altogether stops his hookups with any other girls, and that alone causes a roar of rumors to come their way—ever since his growth spurt the summer after his third year and the muscles he’s slowly gained from Quidditch, Percy’s been the resident playboy of Hogwarts, never dating, never sleeping with the same girl twice—but now that he and Annabeth spend most of their time together, well. He doesn’t have the time or willingness to search out anyone else.

Plus, the sex is _fantastic._

There’s something exhilarating about sneaking around, hiding something from all their friends and teachers and the entire school, really, because if it were to get out to one person, everyone would know within a few hours. Keeping the secret between just the two of them—quieting moans in abandoned passageways, or his hand under her skirt in class and her knuckles white as she scribbles down notes, determinedly not looking at him as she bites her lip—well, it’s hot, and Percy doesn’t mind admitting it.

(“That’s a kink,” Annabeth tells him one day, as they’re hurriedly getting dressed again before heading to Transfiguration.

“It is not,” Percy protests, throwing her shirt to her from across the room.

Annabeth quickly pulls it on, grinning at him smugly as she buttons it with nimble, practiced fingers. “It totally is.”)

Okay, fine. It’s kind of a kink.

They bicker in class—and basically everywhere else—just like normal; their study sessions in the library continue as they argue over equations and spells, only now their legs brush under the table, and sometimes her hand will find its way into his trousers and he has to stifle his groans into his hand as she smugly continues to explain an Arithmancy problem to him.

Percy feels a little bit guilty hiding something like this from the other Marauders, his best friends, but. It’s a secret that stays between him and Annabeth. And it’s _fun,_ too, and both of them agreed that while the sex may be good, it means nothing. They’re friends at this point, and actually _enjoy_ spending time together, apart from being forced to, and neither of them are willing to mess that up by making anything more of their unconventional relationship than there is.

Only a few weeks after their first kiss, they’re studying in the library and Percy’s getting bored, because they’ve been working on this Divination project for _hours,_ and he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and _Chase, come on, we can finish the rest of this later—_

“Fine,” she agrees, wearily shutting the heavy book she was perusing and brushing a stray curl away from her face. “I need a break.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “Like, a break, or a _break_ break?”

She rolls her eyes and pushes his hand away from her leg fondly. “Just a break, you pervert. I do have other things to do, you know—I promised to help Piper study for her Potions test, and…”

“You know Jason promised to help her with that, too?” Percy asks, amused. Piper and Jason have been dating for the past few weeks—according to his best friend, they’re taking it slow, but they seem happy, so. Percy’s happy for them.

“However,” he continues, letting his hand graze her leg, “I’m sure they’re doing a lot less studying right now than we are. In fact,” Percy checks his watch, “we have over an hour until dinner.”

Annabeth shivers, closing her eyes for a second. “I suppose we do have time…” she admits, her voice squeaking as little as Percy’s fingers reach the bare skin above her stockings.

“Yeah?” he asks, rough. “Do we?”

Annabeth shakes her head a little frantically as Percy’s fingers gently trail around the soft skin of her inner thighs, rubbing circles into the sensitive skin. “We do,” she gasps. “Let’s go.”

They pack their books up in a hurry, throwing them into bags with muffled laughter and earning them glares from the librarian and whispers from other students around them. It doesn’t take long, but it feels like an _eternity_ as they clean up as quickly as possible.

They’re both breathless with laughter by the time they leave the library and find an abandoned classroom on the third floor. Percy wastes no time as he throws his bookbag onto the floor and pushes Annabeth against the wall, kissing her hard.

“Well,” gasps Annabeth in between kisses. “I think… that was the fastest… we’ve ever left the library.”

Percy smirks, feels her laugh a little as he presses a long kiss to her jaw. “You’re forgetting the time Leo set off a dung bomb under the librarian’s desk,” he murmurs, sucking on her neck and causing her to whimper a little.

“True,” Annabeth says, breathless. “I’d forgotten about that… _Percy—_ ” and Percy smirks as the rest of her sentence is cut off as his fingers rub slow circles over her damp panties.

“You like that?” he asks, voice low. “Yeah, princess, do you like that?”

She huffs, impatient. “ _Yes_ , dammit Percy—”

He grins. “Do you want more?” he asks, making her say it, drawing it out, and Annabeth shudders a little.

“Fuck—you know I do, Percy,” she whines, and Percy lifts her onto the empty desk and pushes her skirt up, still kissing her.

“Yeah?” he asks, and pulls her panties down. “What do you want me to do about it, princess?”

“I want… I want your mouth on me,” she gasps, bucking her hips.

“Do you now?” Percy asks, grinning at the sound of her, high and desperate, lets his fingers brush her clit and hears her inhale sharply, trembling against him. “Is that what you want, princess? For me to eat you out until you’re begging to come?”

“Yes,” Annabeth groans. “Fucking hell, Percy, just—”

Percy laughs and ducks under her skirt, staying there until Annabeth’s shuddering and gasping against him as she comes, swearing under her breath.

He leans back, grin filthy. “How was that?”

Annabeth hops off the desk, pulling her lacy panties back up and looking over her shoulder at him saucily. They had never even made it to taking off their clothes; her tie is rakish and shirt untucked, and there’s bright, glowing flush in her cheeks as she grins at him.

“Pretty good,” she says, raising her eyebrows as she settles against him, kissing him. Percy leans against the desk, lets out a long breath as she nips his ear, as her hot breath fans against his neck.

“In fact,” she continues, a glint in her grey eyes, “it was good enough that maybe I’ll repay the favor.”

Percy chuckles, but it turns into a groan when her fingers stray to the waistband of his trousers. “Yeah?” he manages, barely able to kiss her back.

Annabeth winks and gets to her knees. “We have thirty minutes until dinner. May as well make the most of it, right?” She starts to unbutton his pants, when they both suddenly freeze.

Down the hall, the unmistakable sounds of teenage boys laughing and talking float into the classroom.

“Someone’s coming,” Annabeth hisses, hastily standing up and trying to smooth down her wild curls.

Percy quickly stands up and grabs his bookbag, pulling out the first available book and sitting back on the desk, opening it without even looking at the words. Annabeth follows his lead, grabbing a book from her own bag and sitting down on the floor, crossing her legs to hide how her shirt’s untucked.

They both wait in tense silence as the voices get closer… and closer… and then—

“Percy!” Leo says jovially. “What the hell are you doing in here? Oh, and Annabeth. You lads studying for something or other? Seems like that’s all you ever do nowadays.”

Jason follows him in, looking wary. “Percy, we never would have found you without the map…” he trails off as he sees Annabeth on the ground, studying with a complete poker face. “Annabeth? What are you doing here?”

“Percy and I were just studying for the Divination test,” Annabeth lies smoothly. “The library was getting a little loud—some second year boys just wouldn’t shut up, so we decided to find a quieter place.”

Jason looks satisfied with the explanation. Percy sends him a glare for his friend’s earlier slip-up—the Marauder’s Map is their secret, and if Annabeth were to find out, well. They’re just not close enough for that, not yet.

“Anyway, we were trying to find the both of you to ask what progress we’ve made on the research for Grover’s furry little problem,” Leo continues.

Annabeth glares, and Percy almost laughs at the expression on her face. The nickname she coined as a joke had caught on between the other Marauders, and now it was all they used to discuss Grover’s condition in public.

“I thought we were meeting in the Room of Requirement after dinner,” Percy supplies, raising his eyebrows. “Why did you come find us now?”

Jason and Leo share a worried glance.

“What’s the matter?” Annabeth demands. “Did something happen?”

“Well…” Leo says slowly. “Grover asked me if something was going on. He’s not an idiot, mates—we haven’t been spending as much time together recently, and I think he’s starting to get a little suspicious.”

Percy breathes out a sigh of relief; he had been unconsciously holding his breath, thinking that perhaps the other Marauders had found out about him and Annabeth—

Annabeth, apparently, had been thinking the same thing. The muscles on her face relax, like she’d been tensing her jaw before Leo spoke. A few months ago, Percy wouldn’t have even noticed, but he’s been getting better and better at reading Annabeth’s body language, at understanding what she’s feeling without even speaking.

If someone had told him he and Annabeth Chase would be close enough to read each other’s body language at the end of last year’s term, he would have laughed in their face.

Now, though—well, things are different.

Jason clears his throat, bringing Percy back to the conversation at hand. “So… has anything progressed with the research?” he asks again. “The sooner we can finish this and tell Grover, the better. I’m tired of keeping secrets.”

Percy glances guiltily at Annabeth, but she doesn’t look at him as she speaks to Jason. “I finally got out of McGonagall that the book we need is in the restricted section of the library, which, unfourtunetly, is off limits even to prefects. But once I get it, we should be able to begin the process, especially considering all the other information we’ve gathered over the past few months.”

Jason nods, looking satisfied. “Good. Thank you, Annabeth.” He looks over at Percy, tilting his head strangely. “Perce, you know that book is upside down, right?”

Percy chuckles nervously as he hurriedly turns the book upright. “Uh. Yeah. Of course. I just—” he gestures wildly, “picked it up. The wrong way.”

Jason raises his eyebrows. “All right.”

Annabeth smiles, a little strained, and Jason and Leo leave the room, beginning to bicker in the hall. Their voices die out, slowly fading as they continue down the hall and eventually out of earshot.

Percy lets out a sigh of relief. “Well. That was close,” he remarks.

Annabeth stands up, setting the book she was reading aside. “First, your cover stories are bloody awful,” she announces. “Let me do the talking next time.”

“Hopefully there won’t _be_ a next time,” Percy says grumpily.

Annabeth sidles up to him, propping herself up with her hands on the desk on either side of him, giving him a _fantastic_ view of her boobs. “We still have about fifteen minutes to get down to dinner,” she offers, sultry. “Think we can be quick?”

Percy grins, leaning down to kiss her. “Oh, I _know_ we can be quick.”


	6. chapter 6

The first Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin for the entire term arrives a wet, rainy day in early December, and Percy is _insanely_ nervous.

Logically, he knows the Gryffindor team is in the best shape it could possibly be—they’ve been practicing hard all term, and everyone on the team was on it last year, too, so there are no rookies. The captain is Thalia Grace, Jason’s older sister, and she’s a _genius_ when it comes to Quidditch; she’s also a stickler for technique, and this year Gryffindor has demolished the competition when playing Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.

Unfourtunetly, Percy’s snuck out to see the Slytherin team practice a few times, and he’s not exactly pleased by the way Reyna Ramirez-Arellano, the Slytherin captain, has had them practicing. They’re _incredible,_ from Annabeth’s flawless catches and smooth dives from fifty feet up in the air, to the way their beaters—Chris Rodriguez and Miranda Gardner—easily bat away bludgers as if they’re _nothing,_ aiming them perfectly. Their chasers are coordinated and well-practiced, and Reyna, as keeper, can guard the hoops as easily as blinking, hitting away even some of the best shots.

So. He thinks he has a right to be a _little_ nervous.

The Gryffindor team consists of himself as seeker, Thalia as keeper, brothers Travis and Conner Stoll as beaters. For chasers, they have Charles Beckendorf, a quiet, muscled sixth year; Katie Gardner, a dedicated fifth year, and Clarisse La Rue, a strong, vicious girl who’s taller than Percy. They’re all skilled, they’re all dedicated to the sport, but. Percy’s worried that all their training won’t be enough.

It doesn’t help his nerves when Annabeth stops by at breakfast, already dressed in her emerald green Chaser’s uniform. “Nervous, Jackson?” she asks teasingly, stealing a biscuit from his plate.

“Go away, Chase,” Percy groans, letting his head slump into his hands. “I really can’t deal with you right now.”

She sticks out her lower lip. “Aw, is the famous Percy Jackson _scared?_ Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll go easy on you. You shouldn’t end up in the hospital wing for more than a week.”

Percy raises an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted all of me in working order?” he replies teasingly.

Annabeth blushes and ducks her head. “I’m sure I can survive a week by myself,” she quips.

He grins, his nerves dissipating, if only for a few minutes. “See you on the field, princess.”

She saunters away, winking at him over her shoulder and swinging her hips. “Be ready to get your arse beat, Jackson!”

“In your dreams!” Percy yells, grinning at her retreating back, and manages to eat a few bites of eggs before downing a cup of pumpkin juice and grabbing his uniform.

He quickly heads down to the pitch after the other Marauders have wished him luck; they’ll all be in the stands, cheering for Gryffindor, and Percy catches sight of a homemade banner peeking out of Grover’s bag. His heart swells with affection for his friends, and he whistles as he walks quickly down to the pitch.

“Alright, team,” Thalia says after they’ve all changed into their scarlet and gold uniforms, brooms in hand. “We’ve trained hard this year, and while the Slytherin team is good— _really_ good—I think we have a good chance of beating them if we all keep our heads in the game.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Clarisse speaks up, leering at Thalia as she picks the dirt out from under her fingernails. “Your girlfriend is the captain of the enemy’s team.”

Thalia flushes, and Percy grins. She and Reyna have been dating since the beginning of the term, and this will be her first time playing against her girlfriend.

“Says the person whose boyfriend is one of the beaters,” Percy says to Clarisse.

Clarisse grins, vicious. “I already promised Chris I’d beat his arse into the dust.”

“Sounds like a loving relationship,” Beckendorf drawls.

“Lads. Paying attention, remember?” Thalia snaps. “Come on. Strategy for the game today?”

“Heads down, because of the rain,” Katie Gardner offers.

Thalia nods. “It’s cold and drizzling—we’ve played in worse conditions, but remember to keep cleaning your goggles off. I don’t want anyone crashing into a bludger or another player because they couldn’t see where they were going.” Her electric blue eyes flash to Percy. “Jackson! I know you and Chase have been getting along recently, but I do not want a repeat of last year. Is that understood?”

Percy gulps. The last game between Slytherin and Gryffindor had ended with both Annabeth and Percy in the hospital wing after Annabeth had grabbed the quaffle and promptly ran into Percy, sending him spiraling into the goalposts.

“Is that understood?” Thalia repeats, narrowing her eyes.

“I didn’t even _start_ it last time—but yes. Fine,” Percy replies.

Thalia nods. “Good.” She opens her mouth to continue, but the door to the Quidditch practice room opens, and Silena Beauregard walks in, her blue eyes sparkling and dark hair damp from the rain.

“Hello everyone,” she says cheerily as she walks in, and they all greet her. Percy adores Silena—in her sixth year, she’s lovely and sweet and absolutely wonderful to everyone she meets. Also, Beckendorf has a ridiculous crush on her and he loves teasing him about it.

Silena skips to Beckendorf and kisses his cheek, her bright red lipstick leaving a shiny mark on his dark skin. “Good luck today, Charlie,” she says, eyelashes fluttering, and Percy really might squeal.

Beckendorf blushes. “Thanks, Silena,” he says, his deep voice gruff. “See you after the game?”

She winks over her shoulder at him as she saunters out. “Of course. Good luck, everyone!”

Percy waves at her retreating form. “Bye, Silena!” he yells, purposely obnoxious, before turning to Beckendorf and elbowing him as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Are you blushing? I can’t actually tell, but I’m going to assume you’re blushing.”

“Shut up, Jackson,” Beckendorf mutters good-naturedly, but he ducks his head and there’s a silly little grin on his normally impassive face.

The rest of the team is grinning crazily—people have been shipping Beckendorf and Silena for years, but nothing ever seemed to happen between them besides a sweet friendship and a crush on Beckendorf’s part. Percy held out hope for them yet, though.

Thalia smothers her grin and turns to the team. They can all hear the shouting of the crowd now, the rain pattering on the soggy pitch. “Is everyone ready?” she asks, her fierce blue eyes narrowing.

They all nod, gripping their brooms grimly.

“Then let’s go!” she orders, and they all shoot out onto the pitch, the roar of the crowd deafening as Slytherin also makes their grand appearance.

Percy watch as Thalia and Reyna shake hands—he’s seen them together on Hogsmeade dates and studying around the castle, and they always _seem_ relatively affectionate; secret smiles and fingers interlacing during class, but. Now it’s as if they’re generals on two opposing sides of a war.

(Which, Percy supposes, is kind of true.)

He can hear Jason’s voice over the loudspeaker—his best friend is commenting for the game—loud and clear. “Players ready?”

They all nod in affirmative.

“Then let the game begin!” Jason shouts, and they take off.

Percy immediately focuses on the snitch, but keeps an eye on the Slytherin team’s seeker, Octavian Roman—a scrawny blond sixth year who’s had a grudge against Percy ever since Percy grabbed the snitch a second before him in the first game they ever played together. He grins, narrowing his eyes against the freezing rain, pelting him like bullets.

Percy always forgets how much he loves flying, how much he loves _Quidditch,_ until they’re in the middle of a game, with the wind cutting on his face and the roar of the crowd in his ears. This is what he wants to do with his life—he wants to be able to feel the adrenaline pumping through his body in time to the crowd’s shouts, wants to feel the thrill of winning a game, of grabbing the fluttering Snitch, of watching his teammates circle below him and the bludgers whistling in his ears as they pass.

He knows he’s talented, and he also knows there are scouts at today’s game, searching for potential possibilities for professional teams. Of course, he’s just a fifth year, and he probably won’t get any offers yet, but. The more publicity he gets, the more stunts the people see, the better the chances of him eventually getting offered a spot of a real team.

His daydreams of the future are interrupted as Octavian bumps against his broom, the other boy’s watery blue eyes narrowing in contempt. “Ready to lose, Jackson?” he asks, his voice like nails on chalkboard.

Percy grins, malicious. “In your dreams.”

They both speed off, eyes straining for the tiny flash of golden light that will alert them to the snitch’s presence. Percy can dimly hear the game going on below them—“Chase takes the shot, and _yes,_ it’s in, Slytherin up 40-10—” and he speeds off, trying to get to the snitch as soon as possible. His fingers are already numb, the pelting sleet having numbed his entire body despite the fire of adrenaline raging within.

Percy smoothly flips his broom, leaving Octavian in the dust, and circles the pitch from above. Maybe if he could get the other seeker to crash—it’s a risky move, but he hasn’t even seen a glimmer of the snitch yet, and he needs more time.

He takes a deep breath and _dives._

Dimly, he can hear Octavian screech and follow him, but his focus is on the ground—closer, closer, closer—and he’s _plummeting,_ going to crash any minute, and he can hear gasps from the crowd, and then—

He pulls up, feeling his stomach plunge with the effort, and soars into the angry grey sky, feeling a surge of triumph as the crowd goes wild with cheers. Percy risks a glance behind him and sees that Octavian didn’t crash, but he nearly fell off his broom, and is still struggling to get back on. Chuckling, Percy pulls ahead and whizzes to the center of the action.

“La Rue has the quaffle, passes to Beckendorf on her left—and the pass is intercepted by Chase, who’s on a roll today, four interceptions so far—she weaves through the beaters—a bludger passes her on her left, missing her by inches, but she doesn’t even notice—she lines up the shot, and the Gryffindor team rallies to block it. Chase fakes to the left, passes to fellow Slytherin Chaser Gwen Speare—Speare passes back to Chase, and—the shot is in, ladies and gentlemen, Slytherin at 80-20…” and Percy curses, willing his broom to go faster. He has to find the snitch, and soon, or Slytherin will be too far in the lead for it to even matter.

He circles the pitch, passes Thalia, who’s looking weary. “Find the snitch, Jackson!” she bellows, and Percy nods, knowing that they need this, they _need_ this—

Percy catches up to Annabeth as they head down to the pitch to the Slytherin goals, where the other five chasers are in a heated fight over the quaffle. “Nice shot back there,” he yells, the wind nearly muffling his words.

“Thanks,” Annabeth shouts back, a saucy grin on her face that he knows oh-so-well. “You better step it up, Jackson.”

“Working on it!” he yells, and dives out of the way of a stray bludger—“Oi, Travis, get these things away from me!”—and soars off to the left, where Octavian is whizzing by.

He strains his eyes in the rain, trying to find the tell-tale glimmer of the snitch, but it’s _hard,_ it’s so hard between the rain and the sleet and the absence of the sun—

“Gardner takes the quaffle, whizzes down the field—and she’s hit by a bludger, the quaffle’s knocked out of her hands—Chase scoops it up in a remarkably fast reaction, she’s heading down the pitch, and she scores, Slytherin 130-20—”

Percy narrows his eyes into the wind, whizzing between two nearly-colliding bludgers and weaving between other players. Katie Gardner passes him—“Find the snitch, Jackson, and hurry!”

“I’m _trying,_ ” he yells over his shoulder, frustrated, circling back over the field and frantically searching, searching, searching, as the game continues at a furious pace below him.

“Beckendorf has the quaffle, passes to La Rue—nice pass, and she gets it, she’s about to score, and—Ramirez-Arellano blocks it, a beautiful move made by the captain of the Slytherin team—Chase takes the quaffle—”

“Dammit,” Percy mutters.

“And she scores, Slytherin 160-20—”

“This game needs to end!” Thalia yells at him. “If they get just two more shots in, we’re finished!”

“I’m trying, dammit!” Percy yells. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find this thing? I swear—”

“Just _find_ it!” Thalia bellows, turning her attention to where Annabeth and Katie are battling over the quaffle, dangerously close to the Gryffindor goalposts.

“And Chase gains control and—she scores again, Slytherin 170-20—” Jason’s voice cuts through the wind.

Percy groans, turning his broom into the wind and then—

He sees it.

Just the faintest glimmer of golden light as the bottom of the pitch, but it’s _there._

He takes a quick look around. Octavian’s far above him, circling around the pitch nearly in the clouds, and all six Chasers are again battling in the middle of the pitch for possession of the quaffle—Annabeth, of course, is in the middle of the fray.

Percy knows if she gets the quaffle and scores before he grabs the snitch, the game’s over. So he dives.

The wind whistles in his ears as he drops, his stomach plummeting as he falls, eyes on the snitch as it flutters quickly at the bottom of the pitch.

_Closer, closer._

“And Chase gets possession of the quaffle, heads down the pitch…”

_Closer, closer._

It’s like the crowd, the wind, the rain, is non-existent; Percy focuses wholly on the snitch, feels every muscles straining on his broom to go faster, feels—as if in slow motion—the wind rippling his uniform, sees the snitch a few feet away from his hand, and reaches out—

_Closer, closer._

“Chase lines up the shot…”

His fingers close around the snitch.

“And she scores—”

Instantly the sound floods back to Percy’s ears, as if everything had been under a _Muffliato_ charm and then someone had removed it. He looks up, triumphant, and pumps his fist—the snitch wiggling under his fingertips—in the air towards his team.

But then he glances toward the Slytherin team, and they’re celebrating too, and he sees Annabeth laughing, victorious.

He flies gently to the wooden stage where McGonagall, Chiron, and Jason stand, all three of them with dropped jaws and wide eyes.

Annabeth lands on the stage just as he does, both of them alighting. “Told you we’d kick your arse,” she tells him, smug.

Percy holds up the snitch in his hands, grinning. “Sorry, Chase, but like I said—in your dreams.”

Her face morphs into confusion. “But I scored right before you caught it,” she protests. “The score is 180-170, in favor of Slytherin.”

Chiron, his long white beard damp with the rain, slowly gets up from the chair. “I’m afraid, Miss Chase, that Mr. Jackson caught the snitch just milliseconds before the quaffle passed through the hoop. The score is 170-170—a perfect tie.”

Annabeth scowls, but she doesn’t look particularly angry. The rest of both teams alight on the platform.

“Game’s a tie,” Percy yells over the wind, which seems to have picked up.

There’s a mixed reaction of groans and cheers as the headmaster announces the score to the crowd, but all Percy can focus on is Annabeth as she sidles up next to him, her blonde curls—tied back in a tight braid—soaked from the rain.

“Guess we both won, huh?” she asks, looking up at him and grinning a little.

Percy laughs. “Guess so.”

“Ready to head inside? I could do with a hot bath before we go to the celebration party,” Annabeth says, raising an eyebrow.

Percy throws an arm around her, uncaring of who sees, as they hop off the platform and start walking back to the castle with the rest of the crowd. “I think a hot bath sounds pretty damn good.”


	7. chapter 7

So. Percy's kind of been educating Annabeth on Muggle culture.

It's _fun,_ teaching her; she knows so little, and the Muggle way of doing things always fascinates her. Percy could watch her for hours, watch her smile in delight and eyes widen in wonder as he explains how a bathtub works, or a toilet, or a refrigerator. It's kind of adorable, the way she listens seriously as he explains Taylor Swift's career and takes notes on Beyoncé and the Kardashians. She _loves_ the comic books he smuggles into the castle for her, and they have numerous spirited discussions on Marvel vs. DC when they're supposed to be studying.

So it only makes sense that eventually it would come out to the general public that Annabeth Chase, the pureblood who's never been exposed to the muggle world, is suddenly _constantly_ referencing muggle culture.

Percy nearly snorts with laughter one day when she finally gets a complicated Arithmancy problem that they've been working on and shouts, "Booyah!" which earns them a few puzzled looks from the students around them.

Or the next day, when he sees her excitedly speaking to a few tiny first years about Santa Clause and his journeys on the rapidly approaching Christmas Eve.

Or even one day when they're both in the prefect's bathroom; the door's been thoroughly charmed and locked to avoid any precocious visitors, and they're both relaxing in the hot water, making out against the tile. Percy's thumbs are gently rubbing against her pebbled nipples, and she's grinding against his leg when—

"Ouch!" he yells, flailing as he loses his underwater footing and promptly goes under the water.

When he gets back to the surface, shaking his head like a dog, Annabeth's gasping with laughter. "Wow, that was smooth," she says, wiping her eyes.

Percy scowls at the offending slippery tile of the large bath. He makes his way back to the side of the pool, multi-colored bubbles wafting in the scented air, when Annabeth gasps.

"Jack!" she cries, holding out her hand.

Percy grins, realizing what she's doing. "Rose!" he calls, pretending to reach for her, before letting himself fall back, lazily swimming to her.

Annabeth snorts as he climbs back up on the submerged seat. "Good job," she tells him, mock-serious. "You'd make a great Jack. Not quite as cute as Leonardo DiCaprio, but."

Percy leans in to kiss her, feels her laugh under his lips. "I'd make an _amazing_ Leonardo DiCaprio, thank you very much."

The climax, though, happens only a few days before the Christmas holidays begin.

Percy's sitting at the Ravenclaw table, goofing around with the other Marauders; Leo and Grover are going home for Christmas, but Percy can't afford to travel home—he sees his mum during the summer holidays, but not during the school year. Jason, on the other hand, simply doesn't want to go home; his sister is staying at the castle, and Percy knows his friends' parents don't exactly make the Grace's home a pleasant one.

He sees Annabeth, sitting a few chairs over with her friends; they're laughing about something, and Percy gets a little distracted by watching her smile, seeing her laugh unknowing that anyone's watching her.

"Percy? Where are you?" Leo prompts. "I just made three spectacular pop culture references and you didn't hear any of them."

"What? Sorry, Leo," Percy responds, distracted. "I need to go talk to Chase about our Divination homework, I'll be right back."

Leo rolls his eyes, waving him away. "Go ahead, just abandon the Marauders. Don't blame us if anything explodes, you're about 90% of our impulse control."

Jason sighs loudly. "I thought _I_ was the impulse control of this group?"

"Sorry, Jason, you're just a worrywart," Grover says, grinning as he steals a muffin from Leo's plate.

"Hey, watch it, mate—"

Percy chuckles, shaking his head at his friends' antics as he finds Annabeth. She's getting up and grabbing her bookbag as she walks quickly towards the exit of the Great Hall. It's crowded because of the lunch hour, and Percy nearly runs into four people trying to catch up with her, but he eventually jogs to her side.

"Percy," she greets him, raising an eyebrow. "Is something the matter?"

"No, I was just going to ask a question about that homework Trelawny gave us," Percy explains, pulling a piece of parchment from his bag. "I saw that you had the reading for those three books here, but I thought she also said—"

He's cut off by someone shoving him roughly, pushing his bookbag to the floor and his books scattering.

"Sorry," someone drawls, and Percy turns to Octavian, surrounded by a few of his friends.

"What do you want, Octavian?" Percy asks calmly. Annabeth opens her mouth, but Percy shakes his head at her. He doesn't need her getting involved with a stupid bully he's been dealing with for years.

"Nothing," Octavian says lazily, his watery blue eyes darting around like a cat. "Just wondering when you'll get your mudblood ass out of the school, and the rest of your freak friends, too."

Percy's hand flies to his wand. "Don't call me that," he growls, stepping closer. He's at least a head taller than the other boy, but he can sense Octavian's other friends grouping behind him.

A crowd has begun to gather around them, watching the exchange excitedly.

Octavian takes out his wand and twists it in his long, skinny fingers. "I doubt you have the wand skills to even survive five minutes in a duel," he says, and turns to his groupies for support. "What do you think, lads?"

There's a mix of whistles and boos from the rapidly growing crowd.

"Octavian, I need to get to class," Percy says, deadly calm. "Get out of my way, or you _will_ regret it."

Octavian spreads his hands, and this, _this_ is why Percy's a little afraid of this scrawny pureblood: his control over the crowds, his easy way with words, the way he twists arguments until they're useless. "You know, Jackson, if it was just your blood polluting the impressionable young wizards and witches coming to Hogwarts, that would be one thing. But now you've begun spreading your tainted influence on the princess of the school herself." He sneers at Annabeth. "What would the Minister for Magic say about her daughter being with a mudblood like yourself?"

"Back off, Octavian," Percy says slowly, his grip tightening on his wand until his knuckles are white. "Don't drag her into this."

"But Annabeth Chase is a _very_ important part in this, don't you think?" Octavian asks. "I wonder what would happen if her dear old daddy heard about this, hmm? Maybe an article in _The Prophet_ about mudbloods tainting the reputation of this magnificent school, of the rising popularity of muggle culture." His eyes narrow at Percy. "All because of one Percy Jackson, a mudblood who's resorted to cheating on the Quidditch field and the classroom to get by in the magical world, because you will never fit in, you will never truly be one of us—"

The blood is roaring in Percy's ears, and he takes a step closer. "Don't say another word," he whispers. "Don't—"

He raises his wand when Annabeth pushes his arm down. The large crowd around them amplifies as she marches up to Octavian, her long blond ponytail swinging.

"First, as you said, I'm the princess of the school," she says, and her voice is sickly sweet. "If my parents, like you mentioned, found out that there were twisted, sick students in the school—bullies like yourself, for example—I can guarantee that with one word from me, you would never step foot in this castle again." She lowers her voice, and Percy almost laughs at Octavian's expression. "Leave him alone, arsehole."

She raises her voice, and Percy sees her smile—dangerously sweet—as she makes eye contact with the crowd. "After all—if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all, right?"

And the crowd _explodes._

Octavian looks furious as Annabeth spins on her heel and grabs Percy's arm, pulling him along with her as they make their way through the crowd. Percy's still reeling, as are the myriad students—he can hear whispers of _Annabeth Chase just threatened Octavian—_ and _how does she even know that quote, she's not anywhere near muggleborn—_ and _remind me to never get on the princess's bad side—_ but all he can focus on is Annabeth's hand in his, pulling him along with her.

Finally, they reach the hallway outside the Great Hall, and Annabeth's heels click on the stone angrily as she walks.

"Chase…how…?" Percy begins, at a loss for words.

She spins towards him. "Octavian is the type of person that gives all Slytherins—and purebloods, for that matter—a bad name," she says, matter-of-fact.

Percy squeezes her hand, suddenly realizing that she's still holding it fiercely. "I was just going to say… you watched _Bambi?_ "

She ducks her head, a flush spreading on her cheeks. "You said it was your favorite," she mumbles. "So I pulled a few strings and watched it last week. Besides," Annabeth says, looking up at him. "It came in handy, right?"

Percy pulls her close, suddenly unable to speak. It's unlike their normal physical contact—there's nothing charged, nothing sexual about this. Percy just holds her, trying to pour everything he's feeling right now—the gratitude, the understanding, the forgiveness—into the embrace.

He presses a slow kiss to her forehead and feels tears gather in the corner of his eyes. He pulls back, wiping his eyes brusquely. "Thanks, princess," he manages.

She smiles and squeezes his hand one more time. Students have begun to exit the Great Hall, glancing at them furtively as they stand in the middle of the hallway. "It was nothing," she says, turning away.

Percy nods, watching her go, and then she looks over her shoulder with a mischievous wink. "Besides—I don't like bullies. I don't care where they're from. Right?"

Percy feels a smile pull on the edges of his lips. "Okay, Captain America," he says, and sends her a two-fingered salute as she gives him one last, blinding smile before disappearing down the hall.

•

"We need to have a list of everyone who's going home for Christmas holidays. The Hogwarts Express leaves on Saturday morning, so I need the list by Friday," Malcom Pace says, spreading out a parchment list on the table.

Percy raises his hand. "What if each prefect got the list from their own house?" he suggests.

Next to him, Annabeth nods. "That's a good idea. What do you think, Gwen?" she asks, addressing the Head Girl.

Gwen's bright blue eyes crinkle as she exchanges a look with Malcom. "That should work," she decides after a moment's deliberation. "Thank you for that, Percy."

Percy nods. "No problem."

After the prefects' meeting is over, he follows Annabeth out the door. "So?" he asks, getting into step with her as she briskly walks down hall.

"So what?" she questions, rummaging through her bag for something.

"So, are you staying at Hogwarts for Christmas?" Percy asks.

She looks up at him, amused. "Last time I checked, I'm not a Gryffindor, Percy."

Percy shrugs, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I was just wondering."

Annabeth looks down. "My home can get a bit… awkward, around the holidays," she admits. "My parents—they don't really get along that well, and when they argue while I'm home, I'm always caught in the middle, so. I'll be staying at the castle for Christmas."

Percy makes a sympathetic noise. "I'm sorry," he says, letting his hand brush her shoulder. "I used to…well, my mum used to be married to a—a complete arsehole, honestly." He laughs a little bit harshly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I never knew my real dad, and she needed her marriage to Gabe—that was his name—to work so we would have enough money to live before I came to Hogwarts."

"Was?" Annabeth questions quietly.

Percy lifts his chin. "He was killed in a car accident, a few months before I came to Hogwarts. It was late, he was drunk, and the other driver—he just didn't see him."

Annabeth is silent next to him.

"It was for the better, though—I found out a few years later that he used to hit my mum. When I wasn't around," Percy explains haltingly. "After he died, my mum and I moved outside London, and she got a new job, and we were able to make ends meet without him."

He feels Annabeth's cool fingers slip into his free hand and squeeze gently. "I'm sorry, Percy," she says quietly.

Percy laughs, a little bitter. "I don't like bullies. I don't care where they're from," he quotes to her again. "There are a lot of assholes in the magical world, to be sure—but muggles, well. They're human too."

She nods silently as they head up one of the staircases.

Both lost in thought, they're startled when the staircase starts moving. "Hold on!" Percy yells over the grinding of the stone. His bag falls to the stairs and books fly all over the steps, but he doesn't even notice.

Finally, the stairway stops creaking and groaning, and hesitantly, they climb to the top. "In all my years at Hogwarts, I've never been here," Annabeth says, looking up at the hallway the stairs have taken them to.

Percy quickly pats the pockets of the robe. _Let me have it, let me have it, let me have it,_ he chants silently, before—"Aha!"

"What is that?" Annabeth asks curiously, surveying the piece of folded parchment in his hands.

"Well, it's _supposed_ to be a secret, but this is kind of an emergency," Percy explains, quickly unfolding the map and touching his wand to it. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he whispers.

Annabeth watches, amazed, as suddenly the blank paper is filled with moving dots and detailed maps of the many rooms and halls of the castle. "That—that's incredible," she breathes.

Percy grins. "We call it the Marauder's Map. Jason and Grover and Leo and I made it, during second and third year," he says proudly. "It took a while, but we kept working on it, and sometimes we'll add a thing or two to it."

Annabeth's grey eyes are wide as she touches the large map. "So where are we?" she asks.

Percy scans the map before finding two little dots labeled _Percy Jackson_ and _Annabeth Chase_. "There," he points. "See?"

Annabeth looks fascinated. "So, we're in the west wing," she says. "If we go along this hallway here, we should eventually find that secret passageway you showed me—"

"The one that comes out behind the suit of armor on the third floor?" Percy finishes, quickly glancing at it. "You're right."

Annabeth glances at her watch. "It's a good thing we don't have Potions until three, or we'd be late for class," she comments as Percy packs up the map and stuffs it back into his pocket.

"What time is it now?" he asks, distracted.

"Only one," she assures him as they begin to make their way down the hallway.

"Then we have time to explore," Percy says, grinning.

Annabeth rolls her eyes. "Fine, but don't get us too lost, please," she requests, following him.

Percy pats his backside winningly. "I can't get us lost, I have a magic map," he says smugly.

Annabeth sighs wearily. "I don't really fancy the idea of following you for hours as you explore this section of the castle," she complains.

Percy stops and pulls out the map again. "You know," he says casually, "there's no one else in this entire wing."

Annabeth stops walking. "Are you suggesting something?" she asks coyly.

Percy shrugs, grinning. "I don't know, are you?"

She rolls her eyes. "Percy, we're in a public _hallway—_ "

"No one's anywhere near here," he soothes, stepping closer to her. "It's a Tuesday afternoon, and everyone's either in class or in their common rooms or the library studying. We're safe." He slowly backs her up against the wall, and kisses her maddeningly slowly.

"Plus, I think you like thinking we might get caught," he says as he pulls back, his voice low. "It gets you off, huh, princess? That anyone might come around that corner and find us."

Annabeth whines a little bit as his hands find their way under her shirt. "I think… that's more… something _you_ like," she says, trying to maintain her composure, but her voice is shaky, and Percy grins.

"I think you like it more than you let on, Chase," he murmurs, nipping her ear as she lets her head fall back.

"Okay," she admits, breathless. "Fine, I like it a _little._ "

He roughly pushes aside her panties and gathers the wetness, thumb circling her clit. Annabeth gasps against his lips, rubbing herself frantically closer to him. He pulls back just enough to pull his sweater vest over his head, and she unbuttons his shirt and throws it to the ground carelessly before pulling his trousers and boxers down.

Percy sags a little against her, and she grins, even as she bucks against him, his fingers inside her. "Like… that?" she asks, breathless.

"What do you want, princess?" Percy asks, peppering kisses all over her face and neck. "Do you want me inside you? Yeah?"

She nods, frantic, and Percy roughly spins her around and pushes her against the wall, pulling her panties down to her knees and entering her from behind. They both groan as he pushes in, and then he begins to move, fucking her roughly against the wall.

Annabeth moans a little, her hand finding its way between her legs. "Harder, Percy," she gasps, and he complies, letting his other hand come around and play with her breasts, tweaking her pebbled nipples in between his thumb and forefinger until she's crying out.

Percy feels himself getting close, and from the way her walls tremble around him, she is too. "Come for me, princess," he says, voice shaky, and he groans at the way she tightens around him, fucking her through it until he comes as well.

"Well," Annabeth says, standing up shakily as he pulls out, pulling up his boxers and trousers. "That was something."

Percy grins, a little breathless, taking out the map and glancing over it. "Look, I was right—no one even came close to this wing."

She rolls her eyes, straightening her tie. "Fine, smart arse." She gestures down the hallway. "Shall we explore?"

He holds out his arm. "After you."

They race down the long, empty stone halls, giggling breathlessly as they run. Percy grabs her hand and pulls her into a corner, kissing her against the wall, before she breaks away from him with a peal of laughter and skips away.

They spend the rest of the afternoon exploring the wing, finding secret passageways and crannies and tucking them away for future use, going through long-abandoned classrooms and nearly invisible broom closets, before Annabeth gasps and grabs his arm.

"What, princess?" Percy asks, distracted as he digs through a pile of empty caldrons. "Want a second round?" He winks at her over his shoulder. "Because I can guarantee I can make that a reality."

Annabeth huffs. "Don't be an arse, Percy. I was going to say, I forgot to show you and Leo and Jason the Room of Requirement so we can work on the Animagus spells, whenever we get to past the research part we've been working on."

Percy shrugs. "No, you said you would show us, but you never did."

She grins at him, a little mischievous. "Follow me."

She leads him up to the seventh floor through a series of secret passageways until they reach a large stone wall.

"Sorry to dash your hopes, Chase, but this isn't actually much better than the broom closets," Percy drawls.

Annabeth rolls her eyes. "This is where the Room of Requirement is, idiot."

"Uh, you do realize this is just a wall, right?"

She walks forward. "I need a place to be with Percy," she says, facing the wall.

Percy waits, not really expecting anything, and then—

A huge door appears in the stone wall, and Annabeth grins smugly over her shoulder at his flabbergasted expression as he follows her hesitantly through the door.

The door closes behind them, and Annabeth spins around, grinning. "So?" she asks. "What do you think?"

Percy just takes in the room. Currently, there's a large fireplace on one side, with a couch next to it and a thick, soft rug on the stone floor. Against the other wall is a huge, king-sized bed, covered with a thick, emerald-green duvet and satin curtains fluttering around it.

"So when you said you needed a room to _be with me,_ the room took you literally," he drawls.

Annabeth flushes. Percy thinks it's adorable. "It was the first thing that popped into my head," she admits. "But normally, the room can be a perfect working space to research the Animagus spells and such."

Percy has to agree. The place is _perfect,_ and he knows how much they're going to need a space to work. "I should have known you were a secret Marauder," he says, delighted. "Finding secret passageways and rooms for your own purposes."

Annabeth blushes under the compliment. "Thanks," she begins, before checking her watch. "Oh shit, we're late for Potions." She flashes him a coy smirk. "You know any secret passageways to get to the classroom, Marauder?"

Percy grins. "I'm offended that you even had to ask."


	8. Chapter 8

Percy waves at the retreating carriages, pulled by the invisible horses. “Bye!” he yells, purposely obnoxious. “See you in the New Year!”

The rest of the Marauders wave and shout farewells boisterously from their carriage until it disappears around the bend, carrying them to the Hogwarts Express, where most of the students are going home for Christmas. Percy feels a tug of sadness that he, out of all his close friends, is the only one at the castle for the holidays this year—Jason ended up going home after Thalia talked him into it, and Leo and Grover were more than happy to see their parents again—but then he shakes it off. He’ll see his mum at Easter holidays, and besides, not many students stayed behind for Christmas. He and Annabeth will basically have the castle to themselves.

Almost on cue, Annabeth sidles next to him. All of her friends have gone home for the holidays as well; she explained that in years past, she’s gone to one friend’s house or another, but in her words, _Christmas is a time for family, and as much as I love my friends, well—their parents wanted only their family._

Percy understands what she means; one time Grover invited him home for Christmas, and the Underwoods agreed to pay for his fare, and while he loves his best friend and his family, the Underwoods weren’t— _home._ They seemed to have enjoyed his stay, and obviously did everything they could to make him feel welcome, but there’s a difference between close friends and family.

“You want to test out the Room of Requirement again, princess?” Percy drawls, trying to break the tension in the air that they both feel at watching their friends leave without them. “We have two weeks to do basically anything we want.”

“Well, I was hoping that with Grover gone, we could begin the process of becoming Animagi,” Annabeth explains, raising her eyebrows.

Percy groans as he throws an arm over her shoulder and they walk back inside the castle, the bitter December wind being replaced by the warm, smoky air from the myriad fireplaces. “Of course you’d want to study over Christmas holidays, Chase,” he says. “Typical.”

She rolls her eyes. “So you’ll do it?”

Percy grins. “Of course. What do we do to get started?”

Annabeth bites her lip. “We need another book from the restricted section, to begin,” she says. “The last one I needed, I was able to acquire from McGonagall under the guise of having to use it for an essay, but this one I’ve already asked, and she said no.”

“So we’ll need to get it on the sly,” Percy finishes. “I have just the thing.”

Annabeth raises her eyebrows. “What, the map? I’m sorry, Percy, but that’s not going to get us past the librarian.”

“No, something else,” Percy says. “I—I haven’t shown it to you before, because obviously it’s kind of a secret. Only the other Marauders know about it, and I don’t use it much, but…” he leads the way toward the Gryffindor common room, Annabeth’s heels clicking on the stone floor as she attempts to keep up with his long strides.

“But what?” she asks.

Percy ignores her as they reach the portrait. “Santa Claus,” he tells the fat lady hastily. The painting opens, and he gestures for Annabeth to follow him.

Inside the common room, a raging fire is going in the fireplace, wood crackling merrily. Only a few other students are in it, unlike normal, and someone has put up a tree and decorated it, and there are multi-colored Christmas lights strung from end to end.

Annabeth gazes at the lights in wonder. “What—what are these?” she asks.

Percy grins. “They’re Christmas lights. Just normal, tiny lightbulbs, but they’re inside colored glass, which is why they’re different colors.”

Annabeth looks mesmerized. “They’re beautiful,” she whispers. “Like—like rainbow stars, or something.”

A couple of other students, who Percy knows to be muggleborn, are sitting by the fire and playing chess, and they look up with fond, amused glances at Annabeth’s wonder.

“Yeah, well. The Muggle world is pretty intriguing,” Percy says, a little smug. “Come on, though. I don’t think you’ve seen my dorm yet.” He leads the way to the little room that he shares with five other boys. All of his roommates are gone for the holidays, though, and Percy’s looking forward to having the dorm to himself for the next two weeks (for more reasons than one).

He quickly bends down and rummages through his messy trunk at the foot of his bed, searching for something with his fingers until—“Aha!” He announces, standing up. “This is what I was looking for.”

“An old cloak?” Annabeth asks dryly. “That’s incredibly helpful, Percy. Really.”

He scowls at her, playful. “Wait until I put it on, smartass,” he says, grandly flourishing it before quickly ducking under the thick material.

Annabeth gasps. “It’s an invisibility cloak!” she says wonderingly. “That’s amazing. I’ve never seen anything like this one, though—the quality is amazing. Where did you get it?”

Percy flushes a little. “Um. It was my dad’s—like I told you, I never really knew him, but my mum always told me that he was a squib. This apparently had been passed down in his family for generations, and now it’s mine.” He shrugs. “I don’t use it a lot—I prefer to rely on my own wit and tactics when coming up with pranks—”

Annabeth snorts. “I’m sorry, what wit?”

“Rude,” Percy says, mild. “Anyway, this sounds like the perfect occasion to use it.”

She rolls her eyes. “Lead the way, genius.”

Together, they walk out of the common room, the cloak tucked surreptitiously under Percy’s arm, and take a few secret passageways through the nearly-empty halls to get to the library.

Wordlessly, he unfolds the cloak, and helps Annabeth duck underneath it. It’s not like they’ve never touched before—far from it—but the close quarters make for a slightly charged atmosphere. Annabeth’s head is inches from his own, and he puts his arm around her to make more room in the front.

After a moment of awkward silence—“Well, _hello,_ ” Annabeth deadpans.

The tension breaks, and Percy laughs as they check around the corner to make sure the librarian’s not at her desk. “Now, we have to be quiet,” he warns her. “The cloak gives us invisibility, but obviously it doesn’t muffle sound, and if anything’s not covered by the cloak…”

“Then anyone can see it,” Annabeth finishes. “Got it. No pressure.”

He grins, and takes her hand. They’re both kind of sweaty, and the stifled air under the thick material smells like a mixture of Annabeth’s shampoo and his cologne, mixed with the scent of hot, sweaty air.

“On three,” Percy instructs. “One…two…”

“Three,” Annabeth finishes, and together they run into the library.

It doesn’t take long to get into the restricted section, and Annabeth finds the book easily; no one’s even in the library, and Percy’s beginning to wonder why they even bothered to use the cloak when suddenly—

“Back!” Annabeth hisses, yanking on his wrist. They both freeze as the librarian—Mrs. Dodds—turns the corner and passes not six inches in front of them, right where Percy had been only seconds earlier.

Neither of them even breathe for almost a minute as Mrs. Dodds closes the book and searches the shelves, before finally setting the book on the shelf and waddling out of the aisle.

They don’t move until her pattering footsteps have faded into the distance, and then Percy and Annabeth let out a sigh of relief in unison. Percy gulps air back into his lungs.

“Now we just have to get out of here,” Annabeth tells him, her slightly-stale breath in his face.

Percy, being the gentleman that he is, feels the need to point it out. “Your breath smells bad.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Yes, because you smell so much better,” she quips. “In fact, because you said that…”

Trying to muffle his laughter, Percy ducks as she blows into his face. “Okay, okay, your breath smells like roses and I love it,” he gasps. “Happy?”

“Very,” she says smugly.

Percy rolls his eyes. “Let’s get out of here, shall we?” He offers his arm to her under the cloak, and she takes it primly.

“Let’s.”

The way out is surprisingly easy; they have to stop a few more times, nearly running into Mrs. Dodds as she totters around, shelving heavy books, but finally they make it out, breathless with muffled laughter and adrenaline.

“That was fun,” Annabeth pants, both of them leaning against the wall a few hallways down from the library after their breathless sprint from the exit.

“Yeah,” Percy replies, trying to catch his breath. He looks over at her, laughing a little. “Yeah, it was.”

“Well, now we have the book I needed,” Annabeth says pragmatically. “I’ll try to find what we need tonight, and tell you about it tomorrow.”

“Your light reading, right?” Percy asks, grinning at the ridiculously thick volume.

She rolls her eyes. “Shut up, Percy.”

“I’m going to go raid the kitchens,” Percy says, holding out his arm. “Feel like putting off the studying and joining me? The house-elves love me, and with everyone gone, they probably don’t have a lot to do right now.”

Annabeth shrugs, tucking the book under her arm and taking his hand. “I suppose I could eat something,” she says lightly.

He grins down at her. “Then we’re off.”




Christmas day opens with a bang for Percy, quite literally.

The minute he wakes up blearily and sits up, his head hits some sort of trip wire, and something pops near his ear, showering him in red and green confetti.

“What the _hell,_ ” he says blankly, rubbing his eyes.

In front of him, sitting on his bed, Annabeth has tears streaming down her face. “A Christmas gift from Leo,” she gasps in between spurts of laughter. “He made me promise to set it up and watch your reaction.”

Percy scowls. “Of course it was Leo, the arse.” He groans as he falls back onto his pillow, pulling the quilt over his head again.

“No, you’re not going back to sleep,” Annabeth announces, dragging the sheets off him. “There’s a huge breakfast waiting for us in the Great Hall, and you have a pile of presents to open, and—”

“Presents?” Percy perks up, letting the quilt fall off his head just a little.

Annabeth grins. “Presents, idiot. I already opened all mine earlier, since _some_ of us have the self-discipline to get up early even on holidays.”

Percy rolls his eyes. “Not all of us are angels, Chase,” he complains, grabbing a brightly-wrapped box that he’s pretty sure is from his mum. She’s a horrible wrapper, but she loves the bright colors, and sometimes she’ll use three different colors of wrapping paper because she doesn’t have enough of one roll left.

Annabeth sees his face soften and eyes water a little as he opens the box, and she sounds a bit hesitant. “I can leave—”

“No, no,” Percy says, wiping his eyes. “It’s fine, princess. Just—stay.”

So she does, as he opens his presents. Sally gave him a brightly knitted sweater, as she does every year, with the first letter of his name on the front. This year it’s blue, with green lettering, and Percy pulls it over his head immediately.

“Your hair is atrocious,” Annabeth comments mildly.

He scowls at her. “Just because _you_ look perfect at this ungodly hour of the morning doesn’t mean everyone does, you butt,” he says, humming appreciatively as he opens a package of chocolate frogs from Jason and a huge bag of _Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans_ from Grover. He grins. His friends know him so well.

As he comes to the end of his pile, Annabeth suddenly looks a little nervous, twisting her hands in front of her. “I, um. I got you a present, too. I just—I didn’t want to put it with the rest of yours, and—”

“You got me a present?” Percy asks, touched. He hadn’t really expected anything from Annabeth—they’d only been actual _friends_ for a few months now, and after being arch-enemies for four years, well. It’s a lot to get over.

She nods hesitantly. “Um. Here,” she says, shoving a meticulously wrapped package into his hands.

“Green paper,” Percy notes. “Love the house spirit.”

“Ha, ha. You do realize that green is generally a traditional Christmas color, correct?”

Percy waves his hand. “Kidding.”

“Right.”

He tears off all the shiny emerald paper and sees a wooden box. “Thanks, Chase,” he says, bright. “You’re too kind.”

She rolls her eyes. “Open the box, you idiot.”

He unlatches the front of the box and opens the top. Inside is a children’s book—the paper version of the movie _Bambi._

“I couldn’t really get you the movie, but I wanted—to thank you, I guess,” Annabeth explains haltingly. “I mean. I loved the movie, and I kind of wanted to show you—”

“Thanks, Chase,” Percy says, gruff, and his voice is a little thick with tears, but Annabeth pretends not to notice, and he’s grateful.

Underneath the book is a plain white card, and when he opens it, his jaw drops.

Inside the card is the complete instructions to become an Animagi. He knows how much work Annabeth must have put into this to get everything—find all the information, translate it from whatever language the books were originally in, write it down with all the ingredients for whatever spells and potions they’ll need—and he finds his eyes watering again at the thoughtfulness and the tireless work that went into it.

(So he’s kind of emotional, okay. Whatever.)

At the bottom of the card, after all the instructions and ingredients meticulously listed in her small, neat cursive, there’s just two simple words.

_Thank you._

At first, he’s about to ask why exactly she’s thanking him; he should be the one thanking _her_ , thanking her for working so hard to help his friend, thanking her for doing everything in her power to assist them in their efforts, but then he remembers the little moments that they’ve had together: in the library when she’s feeling down and he makes a joke. During class and the professor says something funny, and she’ll find his eyes across the room and they share a smirk. As they get dressed after hooking up in some public place, trying to muffle their laughter. When they’re studying in one of their common rooms, and Percy helps with a problem that Annabeth’s stuck on, and she looks at him like she’s never seen him before. The moments in between time, when they talk about their families, about their friends, about their dreams for the future, and yeah, they might still bicker, they might still fight on occasion, but they care about each other, and Percy thinks they both know it.

And then he thinks he knows what she’s thanking him for.

“You’re welcome, princess,” he manages after a minute.

Annabeth looks up from where she’s been twisting her hands in her lap, waiting for him to finish reading. There’s a little smile on her face, like she knows what he’s thinking.

“I, uh. I actually have a present for you, too,” Percy laughs, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, there’s one from me, and there’s one from my mum.”

“Your mum?” Annabeth asks, raising her eyebrows.

“Well, she kind of has this thing? Where she takes my friends under her wing, especially the ones who—whose parents don’t really—well, she knows what it was like for me, with Gabe, and—” he realizes he’s rambling, gesturing wildly with his hands, and Annabeth’s gazing at him with a knowing smile on her face.

“I get it,” she says, soft.

Percy rolls to the side of his bed and looks underneath it, grabbing the two packages he’d stashed there, instead of his trunk, so Annabeth wouldn’t find them. “Here’s the one from her,” he says, tossing one to her.

She rips it open eagerly. “A sweater!” Annabeth gasps, holding it up. “Like yours!”

Percy laughs at her enthusiasm. “It isn’t much, I guess, but she loves knitting, and she’s made sweaters for all my friends, and I talk about you a lot in my letters, apparently, and—”

“Percy,” she cuts him off, exasperated. “I love it. I’ll write her myself to tell her thank you.”

Percy worries his lip. “Well, I could just tell her in my letters—”

“Aw, are you worried she’ll tell me all the embarrassing stories about little Percy that she can think of?” Annabeth coos. “I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about.”

Percy groans dramatically. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

She laughs merrily, flopping down on the pillow next to him, and Percy gets a whiff of her shampoo as her soft curls brush against his cheek. “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” she tells him primly. “I’ll be sure to fill you in on everything I learn.”

He groans again. “I’m going to distract you now, before you get any more bright ideas.” He reaches under the bed and grabs the last, small package, handing it to her, and he’s suddenly inexplicably nervous as she sits up to open it. Annabeth’s parents are rich, and famous in the magical world, and she’s grown up with everything the world could offer to her. His gift suddenly seems cheap and a little ridiculous in comparison.

“It’s a ring,” Annabeth says, opening the little box. She suddenly looks up mischievously. “Are you proposing to me, Percy Jackson?”

“No!” Percy bursts out. “I mean. No. I just remember seeing something like this before so I asked my mum to get it for you and I paid her back, and I thought you would like it, and it fit your—well, it fit _you,_ and—”

Annabeth cuts him off, laughing. “I love it, Percy. You’re such a dork.” She slides the ring onto her the middle finger of her left hand, examining it. “It’s a crown,” she says quietly.

“Yeah. Because— _princess_ , and all,” he explains, blushing a little.

“It’s gorgeous,” Annabeth says, her eyes soft. “I love the color. It’s like—pink, and gold, all at once.”

“It’s called rose gold,” Percy explains, grinning. “It’s pretty popular in the muggle world now with a lot of girls. I thought it looked pretty.”

“It’s gorgeous,” she repeats, sliding it onto the ring finger of her right hand. “I’m never taking it off.”

Percy laughs as she lays down next to him again, examining the ring. It is pretty, he has to admit—all shiny rose gold in a delicate tiara-shaped ring, fitting perfectly on her slender finger. “I don’t know about _that—_ ”

“Yep,” she says impishly. “Never taking it off, if only to prove you wrong.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Percy replies, chuckling. “Now how about we go down to the Great Hall? I’m pretty sure you mentioned a huge breakfast earlier, and I’m starved.”

Annabeth sighs, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Why do all things go back to food with you? I swear, if we were actually dating I’d be worried you were cheating on me.”

“Food is my one true love, Chase,” Percy insists, trying to keep a straight face. “I could never cheat on it.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know my place in your life,” she replies, dry. “Shall we go meet your beloved?”

He holds out a hand, and she takes it, her new ring cool against his fingers. “Let’s go.”


	9. chapter 9

“Ah, mate, I missed you,” Leo says cheerily. “Did you enjoy my Christmas gift?”

“He loved it,” Annabeth supplies, beaming. Her nose and cheeks are pink with the cold, contrasting against the thick green and silver scarf wrapped around her neck.

“Yes, Leo, your gift was _so_ appreciated,” Percy replies dryly as he steps off the platform. He sticks out his tongue childishly, trying to catch one of the snowflakes scattering in the air.

“The sarcasm is strong with this one,” Leo says to Annabeth, nodding seriously.

“I understood that reference!” Annabeth says excitedly.

“These two are a dangerous combination,” Jason stage-whispers to Percy, who nods in agreement.

“How were your holidays, Grover?” Percy asks his friend as the other two Marauders and Annabeth try to find an empty carriage. The crowds of students who had arrived on the Hogwarts Express mill around them, friends reuniting and excitedly discussing their vacation activities.

Grover shrugs, his face paler than normal. Before he knew about his friend’s furry little problem, Percy would have assumed Grover had just been sick, or tired from the train ride, but the full moon had only been a few days before.

He wants to sympathize with Grover—to help him share the burden, so his friend can know that he _cares,_ that he’s not going to abandon him—but he can’t. Not yet.

“They were fine,” Grover says. “My parents told me to tell you hello, and that they miss you. You lads will be coming to my place sometime this summer, right?”

“Correct,” Jason confirms, pushing the wire-rimmed glasses up his nose anxiously as they enter a carriage. Annabeth and Leo enter ahead of them, now animatedly discussing _Star Wars._ “Will Annabeth be joining us this summer, Percy?”

Percy shrugs, his eyes on the back of her golden head. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “She—she doesn’t like being home all that much, and her parents don’t care where she is, really, but. I haven’t talked to her about it.”

“You should,” Grover says quietly, a smile on his face as he watches Annabeth and Leo enthusiastically argue about the Force. “I’ve always thought there was more to her, because she was kind to me whenever you weren’t around. And now that you two are friends—she’s basically become an honorary Marauder.”

Percy lets the corners of his mouth turn up as he takes the steps into the carriage two-at-a-time. “Yeah, she kind of has.”

“Plus, she’s friends with Piper, and we’ve already talked about spending time together over the summer,” Jason supplies. “All six of us would have a nice time, I think.”

“It would be fun,” Percy agrees, sitting down as the carriage door closes and the invisible horses begin to pull it.

“What would be fun?” Annabeth asks distractedly, pulled out of her discussion with Leo.

“Hanging out over the summer, Chase,” Percy answers, leaning back against the cushioned seat. “Think you could spare some time for the Marauders?”

Annabeth shrugs. “I never really do anything but read in the summers,” she admits. “So I would love to do something other than stay home.”

Percy is torn between feeling sorry for her and pushing down the inexplicable elation he feels at the fact that Annabeth will be a part of his life, even when he’s not at school. “Too bad we can’t get our Apparition licenses for two more years,” he says, bemoaning. “It would make meeting up a lot easier.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “Floo works just fine, Percy. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Yeah, but apparition is more fun,” Percy replies stubbornly.

She just rolls her eyes at him and goes back to her conversation with Leo.

Percy glances out the window and sees the outlines of the castle beginning to come into view. He and Annabeth had taken a carriage down to the platform to meet up with their returning friends, and the ride had been bittersweet—while he’s happy to see the rest of his friends again, the two weeks with just Annabeth and a handful of other students and professors roaming the castle had been—well, _nice._ It was so different than what he was used to, seeing Annabeth in yet another situation, and getting to know her—the _real_ Annabeth, not the princess of the school most other people knew—has been something he’s treasure, and kind of doesn’t want to end.

But real life has a way of butting its way into the things he’d _like_ to happen.




School starts up with a vigor after Christmas holidays, and between working with Annabeth, Jason, and Leo on the Animagi project, Percy also has to study for his O.W.L’s every chance he can get. Thankfully, Annabeth offers to help him, and the other Marauders and Piper will often join them, the six of them around a table in the library or one of the common rooms, studying together and laughing over nothing. Leo and Grover will often make trips to the kitchen to grab enormous pitchers of sweet hot cocoa, and Annabeth will bicker with Jason about different books they’ve read. Percy’s gotten to know Piper better since she and Jason started dating, too; while he still doesn’t want to get on her bad side, they’ve bonded over being muggleborns. During times the six of them are _supposed_ to be studying for their O.W.L’s, they’ll often slip into an animated discussion over something in muggle or magical culture, comparing and analyzing, and one time to prove a point Leo had to wear a coonskin cap for an entire day (long story), but it’s _fun,_ all of them being together and getting along.

Percy loves these times, loves being with his friends—the people he cares about most—and it’s almost unbelievable, how after only a little under five months Annabeth has slipped into that title. But it’s _true,_ and now that she’s a part of his life, Percy can’t imagine it without her.

It’s all fabulously wonderful until the beginning of February, when Annabeth meets him, Jason, and Leo in the Room of Requirement. It’s a cold, snowy Monday night, and Percy’s exhausted from a combination of a day of classes and Quidditch practice in the bitter cold. Thankfully, the room has thought to provide a fireplace, and the three Marauders are gathered around it when Annabeth storms in.

“Someone’s not happy,” Leo observes, rather unhelpfully.

“ _Someone’s_ right here,” Annabeth snaps. “And I just realized we have a flaw in our whole entire—our entire _plan,_ to become Animagi and help Grover and just— _everything,_ and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner, because I should have, I don’t know what the hell I was bloody _thinking—_ ”

“Princess.” Percy jumps up and puts his hands on her shoulders, stopping her pacing. “Just breathe, alright?”

She nods, gulping in air and closing her eyes.

“Now, tell me what’s the matter,” Percy says calmly.

Annabeth opens her eyes again and slowly sits down next to the fire. Percy gently lowers himself down next to her, both of them facing Jason and Leo.

“I was going over the instructions that I wrote down—seeing what our next step in the process is,” she begins, playing with the edge of her tie restlessly. “But something didn’t seem right, so I made a quick trip to the library to reference a couple more books I thought might make sure I had gotten that section right.”

“Yes?” Jason prompts. “So what happened?”

Annabeth bites her lip. “I finally found it, the missing link that I didn’t know we forgot. We have to hold the leaf of a mandrake in our mouths.”

“Well, that’s not so hard, right?” Percy asks. “I mean, mandrake leaves are easy enough to grab in Herbology, and if we just have to hold it in our mouths for a while, then…”

She surveys all of them steadily. “We have to hold the leaf of a mandrake in our mouths for an entire _month._ ”

The room falls silent, the three Marauders sitting agape.

“A _month?_ ” Leo repeats finally.

She nods, swallowing. “I don’t know how we’re going to do it without giving ourselves away. Obviously the process of becoming an Animagi is virtually unknown, but we can’t just show everybody we have mandrake leaves in our mouths, or someone will figure it out, or at least come close. And we can’t just— _not talk_ for an entire month, can we?”

Percy raises his eyebrow. “Maybe we can.”

The other three look up at him hopefully. “What is it, Perce?” Jason asks.

He grins, leaning forward. “I have an idea.”




McGonagall squints over her glasses. “You have… taken a vow of silence for the next month?” she says hesitantly, reading the shaky writing on the little chalkboard around Leo’s neck. “All four of you?”

Percy, Annabeth, and Jason nod eagerly.

She straightens, adjusting her glasses. “Well, then. Do not expect me to refrain from calling on you in class—you all have chalkboards, you may use them.” She waves her hand, effectively dismissing them. “Go to your seats now, please.”

They tromp to their seats, beaming.

_That went better than I thought it would,_ Leo scribbles on his chalkboard, showing it to the other three.

Next to them, Grover sighs exasperatedly. “You all are idiots,” he proclaims. “Why exactly are you taking this _vow of silence?_ You never completely explained.”

Percy shrugs wordlessly. The mandrake leaf is sour in his mouth, but all he has to do is look at Grover’s pale face to regain his resolve.

He remembers the time he was at Grover’s house, and they were swimming in his parents’ pool, and Grover pulled off his shirt. The thick scars of twisted flesh all over his friend’s torso had frightened Percy.

“What—what happened to you?” he had asked, pointing at Grover’s back with a trembling hand.

Grover had frozen, as if he hadn’t meant to show Percy, but had forgotten. “I—when I was little I fell into the fireplace,” he had said, stuttering a little. “I still have the scars from the burns.”

At the time, Percy had accepted it as the only explanation—because what other explanation _was_ there?

But now, he knew the truth. Grover did that to himself every full moon, could do that to another _person,_ without even knowing until the next morning. There’s nothing Percy wouldn’t do to help his best friend.

So not talking for a month, a.k.a. taking a vow of silence?

Not even a question.

Plus, it’s kind of hilarious—him, Annabeth, Jason, and Leo, all not speaking, while Grover and Piper tag along, rolling their eyes at their friends’ antics. Since Annabeth and Percy are both well-known throughout the school, and the Marauders just as infamous, rumors start spreading ridiculously quickly about _why,_ exactly, three of the Marauders and the Slytherin princess aren’t talking.

“I heard they all drank a poison potion and their tongues were burned off,” Percy hears one day, about a week into the process.

“No, I saw them in the dining hall yesterday,” the boy’s friend protests. “Their tongues are fine, even if they’re eating a little weirdly.”

Percy ducks his head to hide his grin. The day before, Annabeth had informed him about the girls whispering in the library that she overheard—that all of them had been turned into goblins, but had to keep up their cover at school.

He shakes his head. _Honestly_.

Annabeth falls into step with him, her heels on her black ankle boots clicking on the stone floor. She doesn’t say anything—she can’t, not unless they’re alone—but her fingers slip into Percy’s and give him a little squeeze.

He squeezes back, letting a grin pull up the corners of his mouth.

Thankfully, February—and thus their month of silence—pass relatively quickly, and after that, the pieces begin to fall into place. One day in the beginning of March, they all meet in the Room of Requirement.

“So, as you all know, the process is completed,” Annabeth addresses the three Marauders. Her voice is shaking slightly, and she’s twisting her hands in front of her.

Percy, standing next to her, gently touches her shoulder. “So?” he prompts. “What now? How do we transform?”

Annabeth takes a deep breath. “All the books I’ve read on it say you just have to… to look inside yourselves, and pull out the animal you’re meant to be.”

Leo huffs out a laugh. “That’s not vague at all.”

Jason sighs. “So, what? We just close our eyes and—look inside ourselves?”

“How exactly do we do that?” Percy questions.

Annabeth shrugs. “I don’t know,” she admits. “Like I said, none of the sources I’ve used really go in depth on how exactly to finish the process.”

Percy swallows. “Then let’s just—go at it,” he says, gesturing awkwardly. When no one moves, he just sighs, and closes his eyes.

Inside his mind, his ADHD seems to go into full-on battle mode, random pictures and memories flying through his brain faster than the speed of light. Percy sees one of Grover, and he grabs onto it, focusing on all the love he feels for his best friend.

He thinks about first meeting Grover when they were both eleven, just two young boys scared and confused, and bonding to each other. He remembers being with the four Marauders, and laughing and talking, and Grover ducking his head shyly at Leo’s dirty jokes and then making a crack of his own that sends them all roaring. He thinks about when Grover let him come home with him for Christmas, and how they stayed up for hours, talking about the world and their lives and everything they wanted for the future.

He reaches inside, and holds onto Grover, and he concentrates. He can feel swirls of light—he can’t exactly see the light itself, but he can feel it, vague impressions, like the echo of fireworks, or the flash of a firefly on a hot summer night. He hears Grover’s laugh in his mind, and he thinks about everything the four of them—him, Annabeth, Jason, and Leo—have done up to this point, in only six months, the odds they’ve conquered and the memories and experiences they’ve shared, and the goal they’ve been working towards.

He focuses—grabs whatever’s inside him, all the determination and fire and endurance that have gathered there in the past months, and then he feels a tingling running up his spine, from his toes to his fingers and his entire body until he feels white-hot fire engulf him, just for a second, and then—

He opens his eyes, only to find himself looking down from a much greater height than he’s normally at.

Next to him, Annabeth opens her eyes and inhales. “Percy,” she says, wonderingly, and reaches out a soft, trembling hand to touch him. “It _worked_. You did it.”

Percy butts his head into her hand as her fingers work themselves into his mane, nickering softly. He stomps his hooves a little, just getting used to the feeling, and hears them clack against the stone floor.

Dumbfounded, the other Marauders stare at him. “You’re a horse,” Leo says, a little unnecessarily.

“Can you understand what we’re saying?” Jason wants to know.

Percy whinnies a little and jerks his head. It’s a lot to take in—his head is _huge,_ and his body’s huge, and also this whole walking-on-four-legs thing is going to take some getting used to, but. He’s a _horse,_ and they did it.

_They did it._

After his success, the others are eager to follow. Jason comes next, shrinking just a little as he transforms into a powerful wolf with gleaming silver fur and the same sharp blue eyes, his head tilting as though studying his companions with his new vision.

Next, only a few minutes after, comes Leo—his skinny form growing larger until he shakes his golden mane with a roar, flicking his tail as he tips his tawny head, as though nodding. Percy shakes his head— _Leo,_ lion, he shouldn’t even be surprised—but he has to laugh as Jason and Leo start wrestling playfully, their huge paws and nearly equal size giving them equivalent status as they roll around playfully on the stone floor.

Annabeth is still the only one who hasn’t changed, still closing her eyes tightly and fists clenched by her sides.

Percy transforms back into a human—it’s surprisingly easy, now that he knows how—and walks up to her. “Princess,” he says, soft, and touches her hand.

Her eyes fly open, and Percy’s surprised to see they’re full of tears. “Percy,” she says, biting her lip.

“Hey, hey,” Percy says comfortingly, immediately wrapping her in a hug.

“I can’t—I can’t do it,” Annabeth says, voice trembling. “I don’t know how, I don’t—”

He pulls back and looks her in the eye, hands on her shoulders. “You are the smartest person I know, Chase. Truly, I wouldn’t be saying that if I wasn’t absolutely positive. Without you, there’s no way any of us—” he gestures to Leo and Jason, still wrestling on the ground in their new shapes—“would have figured this out. You are _incredible,_ and you’ve worked so, so hard on all of this, for us. For Grover.”

“But—I can’t transform,” Annabeth cries, spreading her hands. “All of that work is going to be for nothing if I can’t—I’m not able to do this.”

He brushes a curl back from her face, tender. “I think—I think you’re approaching this in too much of your usual, logical way,” he explains haltingly. “Try… maybe try coming at it from a more personal perspective.”

“Personal, how?” Annabeth asks, brushing away her frustrated tears.

He considers for a second. “You know how we’ve learned about Patronuses?” he asks. “I mean, I know we haven’t cast one yet, but. You have to think of your happiest memories to cast one, right?”

She nods, pursing her lips.

“It’s kind of like that,” Percy says. “Think of your memories with Grover—think of everything we’ve done to get here. Think of the memories you’ve made this year with the Marauders, with your friends, with _me—_ ”

“Conceited much?” Annabeth snarks, but her voice is still a little shaky.

He checks behind him to make sure Jason and Leo are still distracted before bringing his hand up to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb gently along her cheekbone. This close to her, in the light of the crackling fireplace, he can see the faint freckles dotting her skin, her long eyelashes, the little scar on her cheek.

He kisses her, impulsive, quick, and then lets his forehead rest against hers. “You can do it,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “I believe in you, Annabeth.”

There’s a breath of wind, and when he opens his eyes, there’s an owl sitting on his arm, looking thoroughly disgruntled.

“You did it,” Percy says, delighted. “You did it, princess.”

Jason and Leo transform back into humans and trot over, surveying the beautiful grey bird in front of them. “An owl. It fits,” Jason says approvingly.

The owl blinks, and suddenly Annabeth is standing in front of them all again. “I did it,” she says, looking a little shocked.

Percy laughs a little huskily, tugging her into a hasty hug and pressing a kiss to her hair. “You did it.”

She leans against him and he pulls her closer, wishing her could freeze this one moment in time and keep it forever. He thinks she might be crying a little, her shoulders shaking, and she buries her head in his chest as he holds her tight.

“Where’s my hug?” Leo demands. “I did it, too.”

“We all did it,” Annabeth says as she pulls back from Percy, a grin splitting her slightly damp face.

“We all did it,” Percy repeats, smiling. “Now, to tell Grover.”


	10. chapter 10

Percy taps his foot nervously, the sound echoing on the stone floor and bouncing around the room.

“Stop that,” Jason orders irritably, his own fingers drumming restlessly on his leg.

Percy scowls at him. “Stop that yourself,” he mimics.

Annabeth sighs wearily. “Stop it, both of you,” she commands. “This is hard enough without you two acting like children.”

Percy slumps down next to her where she’s sitting on the floor. They’re in the Room of Requirement, and Leo is supposed to be taking Grover there.

So they can tell him about—well.

_Everything._

It’s hard to believe that they only finished the process, only transformed _yesterday._ Already it feels like a whole new world has been opened up to them, like they’ve been doing this for years.

But they haven’t, and that’s why they need to tell Grover. The full moon is in less than a week, and they’ll need time to completely go over their plan with him, to work out every tiny detail.

Next to him, Annabeth shifts restlessly, letting her head drop onto his shoulder. “Um. I wanted to ask you about something,” she begins, fidgeting with her green and silver tie.

“Yeah, princess?” Percy hums.

She hesitates. “Yesterday… right before I transformed. Do you remember what you said?”

Percy wracks his brain, but he can’t remember specifically. “Not really,” he admits. “I was just trying to help you in any way I could.” He looks down at her. “Why?”

“You said, _I believe in you, Annabeth,_ ” she tells him, soft. “And I just realized—that was the first time you’ve ever called me Annabeth.”

Percy raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes,” she says. “Normally it’s just—Chase, or princess.”

He considers. “Yeah, I guess it was.” He glances over at her. “I guess I’ll just save it for special occasions, then.”

“Oh? Like what kind of special occasions?” Annabeth teases.

He smirks. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

She smiles, opens her mouth to say something, but just then the door opens, and Grover limps in, followed by Leo, who’s talking a million miles an hour.

“What?” Grover asks, confused, and interrupting Leo’s story about a flying pig. “Where are we? I thought you said we were raiding the kitchens and you had a new secret passage to show me, Leo.”

Leo grins nervously. “I, uh. Well. Not exactly.”

Grover rolls his eyes. “Obviously.” He surveys Percy, Annabeth, and Jason. “What are you lads doing here?”

Percy helps Annabeth to her feet. “We… needed to talk to you. About something,” he says, and then pauses. Now that the moment they’ve been waiting for is here, he doesn’t exactly know what to say.

Annabeth—the absolute bloody _angel_ that she is, Percy could kiss her—takes over. “The past six months—almost since the beginning of the year—we’ve all been working on something.”

Grover raises his scruffy red eyebrows. “On what?”

“We know… we know that you’re a werewolf,” Annabeth says.

Grover’s face turns white as the blood drains out of it. “How—how did you find out?” he asks, voice trembling.

“Different ways,” Jason answers. “The point is—we know, and we wanted to help.”

“But we didn’t know how, until Annabeth showed us,” Leo puts in.

“I read that werewolves do better with a pack,” Annabeth continues. “So we wanted to give you a pack.”

Grover looks terrified. “You all turned yourselves into werewolves?” he squeaks.

“What? No! I mean, no, of course not,” Annabeth answers, eyes wide. “We—well, it’s probably better to show you.”

She gestures with her hand, and Jason, Leo, and Percy all gather around here. Percy takes her hand and squeezes it, a silent comfort for both of them.

And then he closes his eyes and transforms.

When he opens them, they’re all animals—a lion, a horse, an owl, and a wolf in a line, waiting silently for Grover’s reaction.

“You’re all… you’re all Animagi,” Grover realizes. He puts his hand over his face, and at first Percy thinks he’s facepalming in weariness at their antics, until he sees his best friend’s shoulder’s shaking, and he realizes Grover’s crying.

Percy transforms back into a human and runs over, wrapping his best friend in a hug. “Hey,” he murmurs.

Grover pulls back, wiping his eyes and looking around at them, the others having transformed back into humans as well and gathered around him. “So that’s why you’ve been so busy, ever since the beginning of the year.”

“Well, I mean, there’s actual _school_ to be done, too, but.” Percy spreads his hands, grinning.

“And how you and Annabeth were constantly running off,” Grover says, and Percy freezes. “You must have been working on this. I thought you were hooking up without telling the rest of us.”

Percy forces out a laugh nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. Annabeth is blushing, and the other Marauders are looking at them funnily. “Uh, yeah,” he says. “Working on this. Project. Also school. And other things.”

“Yeah, Percy and Annabeth wouldn’t hook up in a million years,” Leo laughs, thumping Percy on the back. “They’d probably kill each other first.”

Percy chokes.

Jason looks thoughtful as he surveys them.

Annabeth’s eyes are narrowed.

Grover raises his eyebrows, a bit bewildered, but thankfully Leo starts going on about his new abilities in lion form, and the conversation is forgotten.

Percy looks around at his friends as they laugh, exchanging stories and memories, catching Grover up on the last few months and close calls and details of the things they did to become Animagi. He looks from Annabeth’s sparkling grey eyes to Jason’s laugh, sees Leo smirk and Grover blush, and he’s pretty sure that these are the people he loves most in the world.




March arrives with something else they’ve all been waiting for.

_How to cast a patronus._

In their Defense against the Dark Arts class—the one class all five of them, plus Piper, share—they’ve been learning everything they could possibly need to know about it—the history of casting a patronus, who figured it out first, the logistics and Arithmancy equations that go into the spell.

It’s all dreadfully boring, but Percy soaks in every detail, because the sooner they know all the dull, pointless information, the sooner they’ll be able to start on the _fun_ stuff.

About the middle of March, their professor promises that the next class will be the practical demonstration of the patronus, and Percy’s _exhilarated._ For once, all five of them are early to class; they arrive at the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom out of breath and flushed from the exertion. Percy slumps into the desk he shares with Annabeth at the front of the room, while Grover and Leo sit in the one across from them, and Jason and Piper—who’s just arrived from her last class—take the one on the opposite side.

This is one of his favorite classes, just for this reason. All of his favorite people in one place. It’s absolutely brilliant.

Their professor, Quintus Daedalus, kind-looking man in his thirties with salt-and-pepper hair and piercing eyes, raps the front of his desk with his wand. “Greetings, students,” he says, his gentle voice somehow cutting through the chatter and bustle of thirty fifth years. “How did everyone find the essay assigned last class?”

There’s a general feeling of optimism as Professor Quintus begins to collect the parchments. Percy knows he probably would have done terribly without Annabeth’s help, but they stayed up late working on their essays together the night before, and he thinks his actually turned out pretty well.

“Today, we will be learning something many of you have want to learn for quite a while,” Quintus says, returning to his desk and sitting down in his chair, leaning back and crossing his legs. “How to cast a Patronus.”

The class erupts into cheers and excited whispers, which Quintus quiets with his soft smile and a quick gesture of his hand.

“As you know, we have been studying the history of Patronuses for the last few weeks,” he says, standing up. “So I feel you are all quite prepared. As I mentioned last class, one casts a Patronus using their happiest memories and drawing them out. Imagine a physical thread connecting your brain and your wand, and the happier the memories are, the stronger your Patronus will be.”

He faces the class and waves his hand. “Commence.”

The class immediately separates into groups on their own, and Percy finds himself surrounded by the other Marauders and Annabeth. Piper seems to have melded into a different group with a few of her other friends, so Percy knows it’s safe to say, a little smug—“This is going to be easy, after the Animagus transformation.”

The others nod in agreement, pulling out their wands.

It turns out that it is, in reality, _not_ as easy as one might think.

To everyone’s surprise, Annabeth is the one who gets hers first, out of the entire class. A bright, silvery owl shimmers from the tip of her wand and flies around the room. Annabeth, looking a little shocked, laughs delightedly as she watches it, the rest of the class in awe as they survey the beautiful, translucent bird of prey fluttering around the classroom until it disappears in a flurry of silver sparkles.

A few other students manage to get theirs—none as bright or strong as Annabeth’s, Percy notes with a little bit of pride—before a shimmering deer prances out of Grover’s wand, delicate hooves raised as though ready to flee any moment.

“Nice. So now we know what your animagus would have been,” Leo comments, looking impressed.

Grover flushes with pleasure. “It wasn’t actually as hard as I had imagined it would be,” he admits. “I just thought of when you all transformed, and—it just came out.”

Percy feels his own grin flash, unbidden, thinking of the expression on Grover’s face, and hugging him. He remembers Annabeth’s look of surprise and wonder when she first transformed, and afterwards, when she told him— _that was the first time you called me Annabeth—_ and suddenly a glimmering horse trots from the end of his wand, proud and majestic, and scares Percy so badly that he trips over his desk and flips over it backwards.

After the entire class has finished laughing and Percy’s cheeks have cooled from a fiery red, Annabeth takes his hand. “Good job,” she tells him, soft.

Percy ducks his head. “Thanks,” he mutters, a little self-conscious and no idea why.

By the end of the class, Leo and Jason have both gotten it, and both of them take the same form as their animagi. Leo gets a few laughs—whoever heard of a Ravenclaw getting a _lion—_ but a few harsh glares sent around the room by the other Marauders and Annabeth soon silence any laughing whispers.

Piper eventually leaves her group to wrap her arms around Jason from behind, the two of them whispering in their own little world. Percy surveys them fondly, wondering what it would be like for Annabeth to do that to him in public, just—casual touches, and no one minds.

He jerks himself out of his daydream to nod at her stiffly. “Nice job, McLean.” Her patronus was a beautiful dove, fluttering gently from the end of her wand.

She tips her head sweetly. “Thanks, Jackson.”

Percy doesn’t think he and Piper will ever be _friends,_ per se, but. They have a mutual tolerance that comes from loving a lot of the same people, and Percy thinks they’re okay.

As Professor Quintus dismisses them, giving them last minute instructions about the homework for that week, Percy can’t stop smiling. He cast a patronus—they all did—and it was just as incredible as he could have hoped.

Under the desk, Annabeth squeezes his fingers, and Percy wishes he could take a picture of her brilliantly bright smile.




It’s the 18th of March, and Percy is _bored._

He and Annabeth are currently in their History of Magic class, listening to the professor drone on about the goblin war of 1043, and Percy thinks that if he has to sit at his desk for one more minute, he might scream.

He checks the clock for the third time in the past thirty seconds; it’s still 3:04, and he still has twenty-six minutes until class ends. Thankfully it’s his last class of the day _and_ it’s Friday, so he only has to survive this last bit of drudgery until he’s free for the weekend.

Next to him, Annabeth looks up from the notes she’s busily scribbling and cracks her neck wearily. Percy can’t fathom how she _does_ it; how she can sit in the most boring class in the history of _ever,_ and yet still _take notes._ He can barely keep his eyes open, let alone keep his mind even vaguely focused on the subject at hand.

He’s considering the consequences of pretending to faint; at least the hospital wing might be a little more interesting than the History of Magic classroom. Around him, his fellow fifth years are yawning, with only a few ambitious students actually taking notes or even looking vaguely interested in the lecture. Across the room, Leo has fallen asleep and is drooling on his desk partner, Grover, though he’s too busy passing notes with a pretty girl in the desk over—Percy thinks her name is Juniper—to pay attention.

He sighs, looking out the window and slumping in his seat. The view outside is beautiful, especially after all the snow and freezing rain of winter that they’ve endured. He watches the new, baby-green leaves on the trees wave in the chilly spring breeze, a few flowers just beginning to peek their heads out of the ground.

Percy glances up at the clock. _3:06._ He nearly groans out loud, letting his head fall onto the desk with a quiet thump.

Next to him, he feels Annabeth shifting forward in her seat, and then her minty breath is hot on his ear as she whispers, “I’m not wearing any panties.”

Percy nearly gets whiplash as his head snaps up and he hisses, “What?”

Annabeth smirks, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest. _You heard me,_ she mouths.

Percy rakes his eyes over her—sees how she’s unbuttoned the top few buttons of her oxford shirt, and the way her arms are crossed in front of her— _dammit._ The black, lacy strap of her bra peeks out near her collar, and slowly, she moves her hands and plays with the next button on her shirt, playfully raising her eyebrow at him as she unbuttons it.

Percy smirks, letting his eyes flicker unabashedly to her chest, and then lower. Maybe he’ll survive the next twenty-four minutes of class, after all.

Annabeth leans forward, letting her fingers trail along the edge of her over-the-knee sock and then onto the pale skin peeking between the hem of her skirt and her stocking. Maddeningly slowly, she pulls up just the edge of her skirt a little farther, and Percy swallows.

“Please take out your textbooks and turn to page 103…” the professor drones.

Annabeth rises a little bit and leans over the desk to get her book, closer to Percy than she needs to be, and Percy _knows_ what she’s doing, but what can he say, he’s a sucker for Annabeth _all_ the time, let alone as a distraction from imminent boredom. He catches a whiff of her jasmine perfume as she moves back to her place with her book, her shirt unbuttoned enough so he can see the lace of her bra.

She settles back into her seat, but closer to him than before; subtly, under the desk, she moves her right leg on top of Percy’s left, her skirt riding up even farther.

Percy leans closer to her under the guise of reading the book, and instead moves her lips to her ear. “As soon as we get out of class, I’m going to take you to an empty classroom and help you finish unbuttoning those buttons, yeah?”

Annabeth smirks at him, naughty, and instead of answering, takes his hand. Still under the cover of the desk, she guides it to her leg, then under her skirt. Percy lets his fingers caress the soft skin of her inner thighs, slowly traveling upward and reveling in her quiet intake of breath and the way her knuckles turn white on the edge of the desk.

And then, just as suddenly, she pushes his hand away and pulls down her skirt, smiling at him angelically.

Percy nearly groans out loud at her teasing; all he wants right now is to rip off those infuriating buttons on her shirt, bend her over a desk in an abandoned classroom and—

“Mr. Jackson, are you still with us?” the professor asks, jerking Percy out of his thoughts.

Flushing, Percy scrambles to sit up. “Yes, sir,” he mumbles.

“Could you please answer the question?”

Glowering at Annabeth, who’s sitting innocently next to him, Percy manages, “What was the question, sir?”

The professor sighs, turning around to choose a different victim. “Mr. Grace, since Mr. Jackson has failed to pay attention, can you please tell the class what tribe of centaurs from the north were on the goblins’ side during the war?”

Percy glances behind him and catches Jason’s pointedly raised eyebrows at him as his friend answers the question. He can only shrug in reply, especially with Annabeth nonchalantly playing with the buttons on her shirt again, and _dammit_ he can’t even _think,_ he wants her so badly.

He glances at the clock. _3:11._ Only nineteen more minutes.

The corners of Annabeth’s lips are turned up as she quivers with laughter next to him. Percy glares, only to be distracted by the fact that she’s wearing red lipstick today, and she _knows_ how much he loves it when she wears red lipstick. How had he not noticed before?

Knowing Annabeth, the entire situation had been planned ahead of time, every little detail in place, and Percy _loves_ it, loves it more than he cares to admit.

She leans forward again, brushing a soft curl away from her face as she studies the textbook, her perfect eyebrows scrunched in thought, and then Percy thinks— _two can play at this game._

Slowly, casually, he moves his hand to her leg, letting his fingers trail over the bare skin of her thighs and hears her quiet gasp, though she remains stoically staring at the text book. Percy smirks and moves his hand higher under her skirt.

Annabeth leans forward towards him suddenly, and Percy nearly chokes—he can see down the front of her blouse, and okay, he’s a teenage boy and Annabeth’s breasts are more than a little distracting at the least of times, let alone right now when all he wants to do is get his mouth on her, to make her scream with pleasure.

Annabeth’s smug grin is all he needs to understand that she knows _exactly_ what she’s doing. Percy nearly groans, then stops as a thought comes to him. He can punish her, in a way, as soon as class ends.

He looks up at the clock. _3:27pm._ The time has flown faster than he could have hoped. Three more minutes, and then…

“Class dismissed,” the professor announces, looking bored as the class erupts into conversation and sounds of textbooks closing. In the chaos, no one notices as Percy leans forward to Annabeth’s ear.

“Come with me _right_ now,” he orders, barely able to keep his voice steady, and for once Annabeth doesn’t question him. She nearly throws the book in her bag in her haste to keep up with him in the mad rush of students exiting through the doors.

In a rush of breathless laughter, Percy grabs her hand, and together they disappear as soon as they make it into the hall, thanks to a recently-found secret passageway.

“Room of Requirement?” Annabeth pants as they make their way through the dark, stone-lined tunnel.

“Nah, that string of abandoned classrooms on the west wing are closer,” Percy tells her.

It doesn’t take long for them to get there, and as soon as they do, Percy yanks her inside the first room he sees, locks the door, and kisses her, even as his fingers busily work to unbutton the infamous Oxford shirt.

“That… was terrible,” he gasps, in between kisses. “I was _dying,_ Chase.”

“I know,” she says smugly, and pulls off her now-unbuttoned shirt. Percy immediately moves his mouth to her breasts, still covered with that lacy black bra. He pulls off her skirt as well, letting it fall to the ground carelessly.

His nimble fingers make short work of the clasp, and then the bra is on the floor and Annabeth is arching her back as Percy peppers soft, open-mouth kisses to her breasts.

“Get on the desk,” he commands, and Annabeth obeys, hopping up on the desk as she grins saucily. Percy positions himself between her legs and leans down to kiss her, sucking and biting the soft skin of her shoulder until a mark begins to appear, while Annabeth makes quick work of his shirt, and then pulls down his pants and boxers.

His fingers flick over her clit, rubbing and circling in fast, pressured motions. Annabeth whimpers a little bit and Percy grins, intimately knowing the feeling of the white-hot pleasure beginning to creep through her shuddering body. He speeds up, using his thumb to circle her clit and enters her with his middle and forefingers.

Annabeth moans, her head falling onto his shoulder. “I’m close—” she gasps, but Percy cuts her off.

“I think you deserve to be punished a little for your behavior earlier,” he says in a low voice, easing up a little on her clit but still pumping her fingers in and out of her. “How about you can’t come until I say so, yeah, princess?”

Annabeth nods jerkily, closing her eyes. “I can’t—”

Percy laughs darkly. “Yes, you can,” he tells her, and pulls his fingers out of her before quickly lining himself up and entering her. Annabeth gasps, her nails digging into his shoulder and scratching lightly.

He begins to thrust quickly, groaning at the way she feels around him and smothers her cries with sloppy kisses. The desk creaks noisily at their movements, the pace speeding up. Percy lets his hand wander down and again rubs her clit with quick motions, Annabeth’s groans as she strains to keep her orgasm at bay egging him on.

He can feel himself getting close, and Annabeth is nearly sobbing at the pleasure, unable to fully let herself go. Percy knows she can’t last much longer, and neither can he, so he leans down. “You can come now, princess,” he murmurs, voice unsteady, and he has to put his hand over her mouth as she cries out, her walls quaking around him and bringing him over the edge with her.

They don’t move for a minute, both of them sweaty and gasping for breath, until Percy pulls out of her and gets to his knees.

“What—what are you doing?” Annabeth asks, still breathless.

He smirks up at her, head already between her thighs. “We still have plenty of time before dinner, princess, and it’s going to be a few minutes before I’m ready again, so.” Percy grins, a little wicked. “I think you deserve another orgasm, don’t you?”

Annabeth rolls her eyes and mock-sighs. “I suppose I do.” She waves her hand bossily. “Get on it, Jackson.”

Percy ducks his head as he grins, and gets on it.


	11. Chapter 11

“Percy. _Percy,_ ” Jason says, his voice impatient. “Wake up, you butt.”

Percy grunts as he slowly comes to consciousness, trying to remember the events of earlier. He had been studying for his O.W.L.’s, at Annabeth’s insistence, in the Gryffindor common room. It had been late, and… _yep,_ he must have fallen asleep at the table. Brilliant.

“Oh, crap. Am I late for class?” he asks, jerking his head up and rubbing his eyes in a vain attempt to wake up.

Jason looks amused. “No, dimwit. It’s Saturday. No classes, remember?”

Percy groans in relief, flopping onto the threadbare couch in front of the dying embers in the fireplace. “Good.”

“ _But,_ Annabeth’s called all the Marauders into the Room of Requirement for a meeting. She asked for me to get you,” Jason explains, his patience obviously wearing thin.

Percy nods absentmindedly. “But I haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“Get over it,” Jason says, dry, as he lugs Percy to his feet. Percy squints grumpily at his friend, and Jason continues, “From what she said to me, it’s pretty important. You’re not going to want to miss it.”

“ _Fine,_ ” Percy grumbles as he runs his hands through his hair, trying in vain to make it lie flat. He glances in a mirror on the wall of the common room and nearly groans out loud; one side of his hair is sticking straight up, from sleeping all night on his book, and the other side is slicked flat against his head.

Oh well. Maybe his appearance will garner sympathy with Annabeth for her making him prolong his breakfast.

They reach the Room of Requirement quickly, Percy still rubbing the sleep from his eyes poutily and Jason sighing.

“Good morning,” Annabeth says, without looking up from her book. Today the room has given them a fluffy sofa by the fire, and Percy immediately plops down, his head in Annabeth’s lap, and begins snoring.

“What’s wrong with him?” Annabeth asks Jason, raising an eyebrow as she seems to notice Percy’s head in her lap.

Jason rolls his eyes. “He’s just being a drama queen.”

“The usual, then,” Grover puts in, sitting down next to Percy. Leo, seeing there’s no more room on the sofa, jumps onto Percy and wiggles. Percy yelps, jumping up.

“Dude! You have a _bony_ butt.”

“I know,” Leo says, smug. “And now I have your place on the couch.”

“Dammit,” Percy mutters, slumping down onto the floor. “Why is the world conspiring against me today?”

“Probably because everyone hates you,” Annabeth says absentmindedly, still deep in her book.

“Why are we even here? I haven’t had breakfast yet,” Percy whines.

Annabeth glances up, seeming to notice that all the Marauders have arrived. “Oh, yes. Alright, so we need a plan.”

“Why?” Grover asks, a little timidly.

“Because the full moon is next week, and I want to be completely prepared,” Annabeth says. “This will be our first time as Animagi and being Grover’s pack when he’s a…” she trails off, biting her lip.

“It’s okay, Annabeth,” Grover says gently. “You can say it, you know. I won’t be offended or anything.”

Annabeth swallows. “I know, I know. Sorry. Um, anyway—we know you go to the shrieking shack, but that’s basically it. Grover, all the details possible would be great.”

Grover nods. “So I go down to the Shrieking Shack through the secret passageway in the Whomping Willow. I take the Wolfsbane potion that Chiron makes for me every month, and then—well, I transform, I guess.”

“What then?” Annabeth wants to know.

“Well, the Wolfsbane potion helps me to retain my human mind, just not my body, obviously, but—it’s not foolproof, and sometimes it’s hard for me to have control all the time,” Grover admits. “That’s why I have these.” He turns around and raises his shirt, and Percy _knows_ what’s coming, he’s seen Grover’s scars before, but nothing can prepare him for the twisted ropes of gnarled flesh all over his best friend’s skin.

Annabeth, Leo, and Jason all inhale sharply, and Percy remembers that this is the first time they’ve seen this, and how awful it was the first time he saw it.

“You… you do this to _yourself?_ ” Leo asks, his normally joking voice containing no trace of humor for the first time that Percy can even remember.

Grover nods, turning around. “Hopefully—hopefully I won’t so much in the future, now that you guys are here,” he says, and his face is pale. Percy knows how hard this must be for him—to share details of himself that he’s never shared before, that some people might shun or even hurt him for.

He rolls up off the floor and gets to his feet before wrapping his arms around Grover tightly. At first his friend is unprepared, but then he returns the hug, and Percy buries his face his best friend’s neck. Grover smells kind of like grass and wind and he’s a little sweaty, but Percy can feel him shaking, and he just holds him tighter.

“We’re never going to let that happen again,” he murmurs, and he can feel Grover nod, trembling.

And so they come up with a plan.

All week, Percy’s on edge, waiting for the night of the full moon. It’s so _hard,_ and he can only imagine what Grover goes through the week before the full moon every month—the waiting, the terrible anticipation, having to act as though nothing was wrong.

It’s hard, it’s so, _so_ hard, but the days dredge by slowly, and finally it’s arrived.

After classes, the Marauders and Annabeth head to their dorms or the library, just like normal, while Grover goes to Chiron’s office to get his potion. The five of them eat dinner in tense silence—around them, hundreds of students chatter brightly as they eat, and usually the Marauders are right in the middle of the throng, often surrounded by adoring fans and friends, but tonight they are quiet.

Grover is pale and withdrawn, and his face is beaded with sweat. Percy knows that his friend must be in pain right now, so close to the transformation, and he reaches under the table to grab his hand, squeezing it tightly in comfort. Grover tries to smile at him, but it comes out as more of a grimace.

After dinner, they let Grover slip away to the Whomping Willow alone, and then follow him a few minutes later.

Percy finds the knot that stills the tree without much trouble, and they all enter the secret passageway, fumbling through it in the dark, before they suddenly tumble into the Shrieking Shack.

Percy picks himself up off the floor. He can hear a soft growling from behind the closed door, and he gestures to the others silently.

“Let’s transform now,” he mouths, and they all nod.

He closes his eyes and transforms, and then the door bursts open and a werewolf runs out.

Percy, in horse form, towers over the werewolf—no, not just the werewolf. This is _Grover,_ his best friend, and just because he’s not in a human form right now doesn’t change that.

He looks around at the others—Jason, as a wolf, and Leo, as a lion, and Annabeth, as an owl—and quietly, they approach Grover.

And then—Grover stops growling and cowering on the floor, and like a dog, he starts happily _wagging his tail,_ which, okay. Percy was _not_ expecting that.

Tentatively, the four Animagi begin to play with him—Leo and Grover begin wrestling playfully on the floor, and then Jason joins the tussle. Annabeth alights on Percy’s head with a soft rustle of feathers, and they watch the others playing fondly.

After a little while, they all head outside to the Forbidden Forest, and it _works._ The plan works. They tussle and wrestle and play in the woods until the horizon begins to lighten, then they all tromp back to the Shrieking Shack and collapse on top of each other, falling asleep like a pile of exhausted puppies.

Percy wakes up as a human, with Leo spread-eagle on top of him, Jason’s foot in his mouth, and his head on Annabeth’s chest. Everyone else is still asleep, except for Grover, whose red hair looks like fire as he gazes out the window at the morning sun.

Percy quietly untangles himself from the snoring pile of limbs and pads over to Grover, putting his arm over his friend’s shoulder affectionately.

“Thanks,” Grover whispers, not looking at him.

Percy gazes out the window. The sun is rising over Hogsmeade, spreading over everything in a pure, warm light.

He drops his head down to Grover’s shoulder, yawning. “Anytime, buddy.”




With May comes the full arrival of spring, and Percy basks in the warm weather, quite literally. He, Annabeth, her friends, and the other Marauders take to studying outside in the huge courtyard, laughing over their textbooks and breathing the fresh, flower-scented air.

“Only another month before school is over,” Percy announces to Jason one day, slinging his arm over his friend’s shoulder.

“And only two weeks until our O.W.L.’s begin,” Annabeth reminds them as she walks past them briskly, her ponytail swinging back and forth.

“Aw, Chase, you’re such a party-pooper,” Percy complains, jogging a little to catch up with her. “Just let me enjoy this knowledge, okay?”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “What knowledge? The knowledge that we have two weeks to study every chance because we’re about to take tests that define the next two years of our schooling, and more importantly, what profession we’re going to spend the rest of our lives doing?”

“The knowledge that we only have a month until summer holidays,” Percy says stubbornly. “Speaking of which, you’re still going to stay with us, right?”

“Where exactly do you live?” Annabeth wonders.

“Southwold, Suffolk. It’s a little town about three hours from London, and right by the seaside,” Percy states proudly. “My mum’s father passed down this giant house on the beach to my mum when he died. We moved there after Gabe died, and we’ve lived there ever since.”

“Picture a mansion,” Leo puts in, his short legs running to keep up with Annabeth’s and Percy’s long strides down the hall. “A wooden mansion that’s kind of falling apart and there’s sand in all the corners and some of the windows don’t shut all the way so it’s always a little drafty, and it kind of smells like mildew and the sea, but. A mansion.”

Percy scowls at him. “I _love_ it,” he says, miffed. “And yeah, it might be falling down a _little—_ ”

“A lot,” Grover, Jason, and Leo all chorus in unison.

“But it costs too much for my mum to fix it up,” Percy continues, “so we just make do as it is. It’s always pretty warm there anyway, so the drafts don’t bother us too much, and it always smells like the beach, and—”

Annabeth laughs. “It sounds amazing, Percy.”

He ducks his head on a grin. “Yeah, it is.”

“Plus, his mum is the _best_ cook,” Leo puts in, slinging his arm over Annabeth’s shoulder, despite the fact that the heels on the black ankle boots she’s wearing push her over a head taller than him. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted her cookies.”

“You’re welcome to stay with us all summer,” Percy tells her. “Jason and Leo and Grover mostly do anyway, and she’s kind of adopted them as the sons she never had. Also, she’s been dying to meet you.”

“I know.” Annabeth’s cheeks are flushed in pleasure. “She and I have been writing letters since Christmas, and she invited me to stay with you for the summer before you even mentioned it.

“What did you tell her?” Percy demands.

“Why, yes, of course,” Annabeth says, grinning. “I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to be at the seashore all summer, now could I?”

“So it has _nothing_ to do with the company you’ll be in?” Percy teases, knocking Leo’s arm off Annabeth’s shoulder and replacing it with his own, ignoring Leo’s protests.

She pretends to consider. “Oh yes, I’m looking very forward to being with your mum.”

Percy can hear the other Marauders snickering behind them. “Rude, Chase,” he says, mild.

Annabeth purses her lips in a pouty grin. “Aw, baby. Has your pride been hurt?”

Percy lays a hand over his chest dramatically. “Mortally wounded, ma’am.”

She throws her head back in a laugh, about to say something else, but Grover speaks up from behind them. “What class are you two going to next?”

“I have potions,” Leo says dramatically. “I _hate_ potions.”

“Then aren’t you going in the wrong direction?” Jason asks pointedly, raising his eyebrows.

Leo spins dramatically, pointing finger guns down to the other end of the hall. “Wrong way!”

Annabeth shakes her head as he and Grover begin to race down the hall. “I feel like the parents of very rowdy children,” she confesses, tightening her ponytail.

Percy laughs. “We’d be _great_ parents, excuse you. Our kids would take after me.”

“As in, defying every rule ever invented and constantly testing the limits just to see how much they can get away with?” Annabeth asks dryly. “Sounds like a child you would have, Percy.”

Percy pauses for a minute, considering what his and Annabeth’s kids would look like. Probably darker skin than Annabeth’s, taking after his own genes, but maybe her grey eyes, and dark curly hair.

He’s interrupted from his daydream by Annabeth grinning at him mischievously. “Shall we catch up to them?” she asks, gesturing down the hall to Grover and Leo whooping as they run and Jason, sighing as he reluctantly jogs to catching up with them.

He grins. “Let’s go.”




Percy’s O.W.L.’s go… well, not exactly how he’d expected.

All his years of Hogwarts, he’d heard such horror stories about them—how students had failed completely out of Hogwarts, parents punishing students for their grades, teachers not allowing students to be in their 6th year classes because of their O.W.L.’s grades.

And yet—his actually go pretty well.

He’s relatively sure he failed his Arithmancy exam, and maybe Herbology, too; he’s never been good at either. But Transfiguration, Defense against the Dark Arts, and Potions all go far better than he could have hoped. History of Magic is ridiculously boring, and he doesn’t actually finish answering all the questions because he falls asleep halfway through the exam—but he’s pretty sure that he did well on the questions that he did answer, so.

He knows that whatever success he gained was all because of Annabeth. Without her, he’s pretty sure that he would have completely flunked. But she’s made studying _fun_ this entire past year, and the last two weeks have been no different. Study sessions with Piper and the other Marauders have lasted deep into the night, all of them meeting in one house common room or another to study until their eyes are burning and all of them fall asleep at the table, one at a time until everyone’s passed out and snoring.

But now their exams are _done,_ and it’s the middle of June and school’s almost ended and Percy couldn’t be more _thrilled_.

He wraps his arm around Annabeth jubilantly, causing her to squawk, undignified, as she tries to walk down the hall. “We’re done, we’re done, we’re done, we’re done,” he sings.

She sniffs indignantly, but he catches the smile on her face as she tries in vain to wrestle herself away from him. “Let me go, you _oaf._ ”

“We’re finished,” Percy says, letting her go but still keeping up with her brisk pace as she walks down the hall. “Chase, we’re finished.”

“I know,” she admits, ducking her head and smiling.

“Only a few more days, and then fifth year is over,” Percy says wonderingly. “Think of how much everything’s _changed._ ”

“At the beginning of the year, you hated me,” Annabeth remembers, laughing a little.

“That’s true, I did,” Percy admits. “I thought you were a stuck-up blood purist, and that you looked down on me because I’m muggleborn.”

She stops walking and faces him, an unreadable expression on her face. “And now?”

“And now what?” Percy asks, raising his eyebrows.

“And now, what do you think of me?”

He opens his mouth, and then pauses, because he can’t think of exactly what to say.

_Now, you’re one of my best friends._

_Now, I try to make you smile, because it lights up the entire room._

_Now, I don’t think I’d ever be able to look at another girl without comparing her to you._

_Now, your laugh is the best sound I’ve ever heard._

_Now, just thinking about you makes me smile._

_Now, you’ve shown me so much of yourself that I never even knew existed._

He looks down at her—her grey eyes studying him, waiting for his answer—and sees the sun.

_Now, I think I love you._

But he doesn’t say any of that; the force of his thoughts hit him like a brick, and he doesn’t think he’s ready, doesn’t think he’s _able_ to say any of it. Instead, Percy loops his arm through hers and pulls her down the hallway as he skips.

“Now, I put up with you,” he pretends to decide.

Annabeth rolls her eyes fondly. “Exactly what I expected, I suppose.”

Percy glances over at her, sees her smile, and thinks he would do anything just to see it forever. “Come on, princess,” he says, holding out his hand, and his voice is mischievous. “Summer holidays await.”

Annabeth laughs and takes his hand, and together, they continue down the hall.


	12. Chapter 12

“Mum!” Percy cries, bolting towards her and nearly knocking her over with the force of his hug.

Sally Jackson laughs, her voice warm as she goes on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around her son. “Percy! I’ve missed you. And you’ve grown!” She pinches his muscled bicep teasingly, her bright blue eyes playful.

Percy blushes. “A lot of Quidditch practice this year,” he admits. The 9¾ platform is noisy and bustling with students reuniting with their families after a year of school. Percy turns and motions to Annabeth, who’s standing behind him awkwardly. “Mum,” he says, grabbing Annabeth’s arm and dragging her forward, “this is Annabeth Chase.”

“Hi, Mrs. Jackson,” Annabeth says, a little hesitant.

Sally doesn’t hesitate to pull Annabeth into a warm hug. “My dear!” she gushes. “It’s so good to finally meet you. Call me Sally.”

Annabeth flushes with pleasure. “Alright then, Sally,” she says, with a small smile.

“You’re coming home with us, right?” Sally asks.

“Yes, I told my parents, and they were fine with me staying for—well, as long as you’ll have me,” Annabeth explains. She’s obviously still a little nervous; Percy thinks it’s adorable. He inconspicuously grabs her hand, trying to reassure her, and she glances at him gratefully before continuing, “They’re always so busy that they don’t—they don’t really even notice if I’m home or not, and when you and Percy invited me, I—”

“Say no more, my dear,” Sally commands, drawing Annabeth into another hug. “I understand completely. We’re more than happy to have you for the entire summer, if you’re willing.” She glances at Percy mischievously. “Percy talks about you so much in his letters, I feel as if I already know you quite well.”

“ _Mum_ ,” Percy groans, throwing his arm over her shoulders. “Stop embarrassing me.”

Annabeth laughs delightedly. “She’s joking, Percy. We’ve been writing back and forth since Christmas.”

“Oh, yes, you mentioned that,” Percy remembers.

Sally surveys the two of them critically. “You didn’t tell me you two were together, Percy,” she chides.

“What? No, we’re not—” Percy stutters, just as Annabeth says, “We’re not _together_ —” and they untangled their interlocked hands hastily.

Sally just raises her eyebrows, mischief in her blue gaze.

Just then, Leo, Grover, and Jason run up, all tackling Sally with hugs and talking all at once; Percy’s pretty sure they’re summarizing the events of the entire year (minus the whole becoming animagi thing) in five minutes. Sally laughs delightedly, listening closely and interjecting sometimes. All three of the Marauders seem to bask in her attention, as if they were little boys clamoring for a treat.

Annabeth sidles closer to Percy. “They really do love her like another parent,” she murmurs, watching the four interact.

Percy smiles, watching his best friends and his mum laugh and talk together. “And she loves them just as much,” he says. “See, I told you she adopts my friends.”

Annabeth laughs, ducking her head. “I’ve only just met her and she seems like the sweetest lady in the world,” she declares. “You’re really quite lucky, Percy.”

“I know,” he replies, grinning.

Sally looks up at them. “How about all five of you get your luggage, and we’ll head out,” she suggests, patting Grover’s bottom and ruffling Jason’s hair, even though all of them dwarf her, even Leo. “It’s a bit of a drive, Annabeth, so the boys know I like to get moving as soon as possible.”

“I’ll get your luggage,” Percy offers to Annabeth.

“No, I’ll get her luggage,” Leo says, bowing dramatically. “My lady.”

Grover shoves him aside. “No, _I’ll_ get it.”

Jason sighs wearily. “Annabeth, do you want me to get it for you?”

Annabeth laughs, fanning her face. “Certainly, Jason. Sorry, guys,” she says to Leo, Grover, and Percy, who all look disappointed.

“Those are my fine young gentlemen,” Sally declares proudly. “Always helping the ladies. Come on, Annabeth, we can get a head start to the car.”




The drive to the Jackson house is about two hours from London, and Percy loves it every year, but he’s currently even more excited than usual. His mum lets him control the radio, since he’s in the shotgun seat, and Jason, Leo, and Grover, all crammed in the back of the car with Annabeth, sing along.

He notices that Annabeth just hums, not singing, and he wonders why until he realizes that Beyoncé is currently blasting, and these are _muggle_ songs, not wizard. Annabeth has probably never heard this music in her life.

Oh well. She’ll definitely get her fill of muggle music this summer.

His mum hands him his phone. “I thought you’d be missing this,” she says, smirking.

Percy grabs it gleefully. “Ah, yes. How I’ve missed you,” he says dramatically, kissing the phone.

The other Marauders laugh, but Annabeth looks curious. “What… what is that?” she asks.

“It’s an iPhone,” Jason supplies. “Because he’s stuck up and won’t use anything but Apple.”

Percy waggles his finger at him. “Android is ridiculously slow, okay. I just prefer Apple.”

Leo nods, grinning. “Amen to that,” and he and Percy high five.

“I don’t have a phone,” Grover supplies, looking annoyed. “Overprotective parents.”

Annabeth’s expression flits from bewildered and amused. “An… _apple?_ Which makes a muggle contraption? I mean, I’ve heard of a telephone before, but I thought it was attached to the wall.”

The other Marauders break into laughter. “Chase, we are going to educate you this summer,” Percy declares.

“I’m taking Muggle Studies this next year as my elective,” Annabeth offers. “So maybe that will help?”

Leo aims finger guns at her. “Honey, when you go back to school you’ll be able to _teach_ muggle studies.”

She laughs, still looking kind of confused. “If you say so.”

Percy opens the camera and holds up the phone. “But first, a selfie for Instagram.”

Annabeth gasps. “It’s like a mirror! We’re in the mirror, Percy!” She wrinkles her eyebrows. “What is an… _Instagram?_ ”

Percy struggles to contain his laughter. “Just smile for the camera, Chase,” he orders. “Leo, half your head is cut off, lean forward. Grover, quit cheesing, I swear to God—” After a few seconds of everyone freezing, Percy snaps the photo and holds it up for inspection. “I like it,” he decides. “First post since last August, coming right up.”

Sally, who’s been amusedly listening the whole time, pipes up. “How many followers do you have now, Perce?”

“Eh, not a _ton,_ ” Percy says, fingers busily tapping away. “Like a little over a thousand, I think?”

Annabeth gasps. “Why do over a thousand people follow you?”

“They’re not actually following him,” Leo explains. “They’re just people he’s friends with—”

“More like people at Hogwarts who stalk me—” Percy interjects.

“And they find him on Instagram and follow him, so they can see his pictures,” Leo continues, as though he hadn’t been interrupted.

“Do you have any muggle… _followers_?” Annabeth asks.

Percy shrugs. “A few. Why?”

She shrugs. “I was just wondering how you explain only posting in the summer, since you don’t have your phone at Hogwarts.”

Percy considers. “I’ve never really had anyone ask me. I’ve posted a few photos taken at Hogwarts, though, so people know I go to a boarding school. Maybe they just assume we’re not allowed to have phones there?”

“That might change soon, though,” Jason interjects. “Apparently they’re installing WiFi in Hogwarts, at a few of the muggleborn teachers’ suggestions.”

The entire car erupts in cheers. “Are you sure?” Percy asks eagerly.

Jason shrugs. “That’s what I heard.”

“What’s Wifi?” Annabeth wants to know.

Percy sighs, turning around to face the road again. “This is going to take a while.”




They pull up at the Jackson home after a little more than two hours of being in the car, and Sally, Grover, Jason, and Leo all pile out, the boys whooping as they run up the long, sandy drive and Sally laughing as she holds onto her straw hat and follows them.

Annabeth and Percy linger behind, Percy feeling inexplicably nervous. It’s the same way he felt at Christmas; how Annabeth’s parents are so rich, and she’s grown up with the world at her fingertips. Percy knows for a fact that she lives in an _actual_ mansion outside of London, with acres of manicured grounds and a _lake_ and horses and literally everything one could imagine.

He watches her as she surveys the house in front of them. It’s a large, two-story, clapboard-style house, and the creamy paint is moldy and peeling in places from weathering countless storms over the decades. Beach grass grows in the drifts of sand around the driveway, and winding ivy vines make their way up the sides of the house, twisting around the windows and the wide porch.

Behind the house, the bright blue of the calm sea laps gently against the sand, the soft sound of the waves a gentle background noise. Seagulls caw in the blistering summer air, the sun beating down on their backs. The driveway is lined with thick oaks, broad green leaves casting wavering shadows on the sandy gravel.

Annabeth takes a deep breath and turns to him. “I love it.”

Percy raises his eyebrows hopefully. “You do?”

She grins at him. “I do.”

He grabs her hand, and they run up the driveway to the house, the sound of the waves growing closer and the smell of the musty wood growing stronger, and Percy nearly sags because while he loves Hogwarts, while the school will always be a place of fond memories to him, _this is home._

Together, he and Annabeth take the sagging steps two-at-a-time and burst into the door. Percy breathes in deeply, the scents of musty wood and chocolate chip cookies and the salty breeze all assaulting his nostrils in time to his beating heart.

_I’m home._

_I’m home._

_I’m home._

And yeah, maybe the mantra has something to do with Annabeth’s hand gripped tightly in his, and his mum’s smile as she greets them again, and the sounds of his friends already having a rowdy pillow fight upstairs. Home for Percy is a combination of the place and the people; the scents and sounds and smiles all blend together and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that _this—_ this one, precious moment in time—is a memory he’s going to cherish for the rest of his life.




Percy pokes his head into Annabeth’s room, the door across from his. There are five bedrooms upstairs; he has his own, and then Grover and Leo share the one at the end of the hall, Jason has the one next to them all for himself (the reward for his hard-won pillow fight victory earlier), and Annabeth, being the only teenage female, also has her own. His mum’s room is downstairs, which Percy’s rather thankful for.

Inside Annabeth’s room, Percy has to chuckle. Already she’s given it her personal touch; she has some pictures on the desk, and the room smells like a mix of the salty breeze coming in through the window and the soft hints of her jasmine perfume. Her clothes are _everywhere,_ in seemingly disorganized piles all over the floor, but Percy knows her well enough by now to understand that she knows exactly which piles are which.

She glances up at him, eyebrows crinkling; Percy notices she still hasn’t changed out of her Slytherin uniform. “Percy. What are you doing?”

“Aren’t you hot?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe.

Annabeth glances down at her uniform and then at Percy, who’s wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks. “I forgot to change,” she admits.

“I think we’re going down to the beach, if you want to take a break to see the ocean,” Percy invites her. There’s a strange awkwardness in the air, something he’s become unused to in the past nine months of her company.

She nods, biting her lip and grabbing some random clothes out of the piles on the floor. “I’ll be downstairs in five minutes?” she offers.

Percy nods, but his grin is a little stiff, and they stand there in an awkward silence before Annabeth, flushing, hurries into the bathroom.

He heads downstairs, shaking his head. “Mum?” he asks, glancing into the kitchen. He can hear the other Marauder’s rowdy laughter outside; a few minutes earlier, they had found a deflated beach ball in the shed, and had gone outside immediately to blow it up.

“Yes, honey?” his mum replies. Her hands are up to her elbows in bread dough that she’s kneading on the countertop, sweaty wisps of hair falling out of her ponytail.

Percy plops down at the kitchen table. “Can I talk to you about something?” he asks, fiddling with the string on his shorts.

She wipes her forehead and nods, sitting down across from him. “Of course. I need a break from that dough, anyway. What’s the problem?”

Percy bits his lip. “Um. I was just talking to Annabeth, and it’s… something’s off.”

Sally folds her hands in front of her, studying him. “Off how?”

Percy gestures wildly. “Um, like… tense, somehow? And it just now started, and for some reason it’s— _awkward,_ and I don’t know why, or how to fix it.”

Sally looks at him knowingly. “Well, have you two slept together?”

“ _Mum!_ ” Percy exclaims, blushing to the roots of his hair. “That’s personal!”

“So that’s a yes, then,” she replies, raising an eyebrow.

Percy slumps, burying his face in his arms. “Yes,” he confirms, his voice muffled. “But what does that have to do with it?”

“Well, from what you’ve told me, and she’s told me, and what I’ve gathered just from watching you two…” Sally gets up and begins kneading the dough again. “It’s just—it’s a new environment, Percy, for both of you. You’re not at Hogwarts anymore, and this is her first time even being here, and your first time having a girl here, let alone her. Plus,” she continues, “you were mortal enemies less than a year ago. I don’t care how much time you’ve spent together and what you’ve done together, you can’t just— _erase_ that much history in a school year.”

Percy considers. It makes sense. “I guess so,” he says, slow. “But how do I fix it?”

“Just give it time, sweetheart,” his mum says. “I’ve seen you two together, and I don’t care how long you deny your feelings for each other—”

“We’re not _denying_ anything, Mum, we’re just friends—”

She glances at him sternly. “You both are in completely new territory, and it might take a few hours—or a few days—to get used to it. Just give it some time, and you both will adjust.”

Percy nods thoughtfully. “Thanks, mum,” he says, getting up and smacking a kiss to her floury cheek. “You’re the best.”

She smiles at him warmly. “I know. I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too,” he says, grinning. “I think we’re going down to the beach, as soon as Annabeth gets changed. What time will dinner be ready?”

Sally shrugs. “Probably around six or so. Try to get back by five thirty so you all can take showers. I don’t want sand in the food!”

Percy laughs, turning towards the stairs. “Yeah, not after the incident with Leo last year…” he trails off, jaw a little slack.

Annabeth’s walking down the stairs, swinging her towel over her shoulder. She’s wearing a stringy red bikini top and cut-off denim shorts that show—seriously, _so much skin,_ Percy’s going to die. He tries to be a gentleman and keep his eyes above her neck— _above the neck Percy, dammit—_ but. He’s never actually seen Annabeth in anything but her Hogwarts uniform or her Quidditch outfit, and _wow,_ the muggle-style summer clothing is a good look on her.

A _really_ good look.

Her long blond hair is in a high ponytail, curls framing her face carelessly, and her sunglasses sit on her head jauntily as she grins at him. Her sandals smack against the wooden steps as she nearly skips downstairs. “Ready to go?” she asks brightly, seemingly unaware of Percy’s gaping.

There’s a pregnant pause as Percy struggles to remember how to speak.

Sally clears her throat behind them. “Yes, he’s ready. _Aren’t_ you, Percy?”

“Um. Yes. Ready… to go,” Percy stutters, snapping out of it and weakly aiming finger guns at the door.

Annabeth raises her eyebrows.

Sally shakes her head fondly as she finishes kneading the bread dough and shoos them down the hall. “Have fun, you two!”

“We will,” Annabeth promises, her grin wide as she follows Percy towards the front door.

The Marauders all go silent as Annabeth steps out onto the porch, and turning around, Percy can see why. The sun catches her golden hair and turns it white, her tan skin looking bronze in the sunlight. The muggle bikini top barely covers her chest, and sure, Percy might die if he looks at her any longer, but the others have never seen her in anything besides school clothes either.

It’s kind of a shock. In a good way. Mostly _._

Annabeth raises her eyebrows teasingly, like she knows exactly what’s going on. “Are we going to the beach, or not?” she asks.

Percy swallows. “Um, yeah. Jason, you got the picnic basket?”

Jason holds it up. “Yep.”

“Leo, do you have the towels?”

Leo salutes. “Aye, captain.”

“Grover, you have the beach ball?”

Grover rolls his eyes. “Of _course_ I have the beach ball, dumbass.”

“Then we’re off,” Percy announces, turning on his heels. “Let’s go.”

They all tromp down to the sandy wooden pathways leading to the beach, laughing and shouting in the sun. The sun beats down on Percy’s bare shoulders, and he catches Annabeth checking him out more than once.

She winks at him, unabashed. Percy just smirks, and lets his eyes trail down the tiny little strings of the bikini top.

_Two can play at this game, sweetheart._

When they get to the beach, the three other Marauders again pull ahead, laughing and yelling like banshees, while Annabeth and Percy stay behind.

He glances over at her as she takes it all in—the endless expanse of water, the sand radiating with heat, the gulls screeching overhead, the smell of salt in the air. He sees a tear track down her cheek, and she wipes it away hastily.

“Is this your first time ever being at the sea?” he asks her, soft.

She nods, a little embarrassed. “My parents were always too busy to go on holidays. I’ve been begging since I was little, and they always promised they would take me eventually, but.”

He lets his hand slip into hers, their fingers intertwining. “Well, now you can see it for the first time with me,” he says, soft. “Was it worth the wait?”

Annabeth turns to him, her eyes watery. “Yeah,” she breathes. “Yeah, it was.”

She lurches forward and hugs him—quick, brief—and Percy smiles at her as she pulls back.

“Come on, princess,” he says, shouldering the beach bag. “Let’s go.”


	13. Chapter 13

They settle in quickly within the next couple days, developing a routine without much thought. All five of them get up, often awakened by the smell of pancakes and eggs floating upstairs from the kitchen, and head downstairs for breakfast. After breakfast, they head down to the beach, decked in swimsuits, picnic baskets chocked with food, and the sunscreen Sally forces on them.

Within only a week, all of them have ridiculously dark tans, except for Grover, who remains permanently sunburned with his red hair and pale, freckled skin. They spend most of their days outside, swimming and sunbathing and playing games, then tromping back to the house to eat dinner. Oftentimes after dinner Percy will get a fire started in the backyard, and they’ll roast marshmallows and trade ghost stories or play games, laughing and shouting long into the night.

It’s kind of amazing, and Percy loves it.

One night, they’re all relaxing after dinner; all of them are exhausted from the day at the beach, and the water heater is ridiculously old and slightly broken and it only lasts for a few minutes, so they’re all taking turns showering. There’s only one bathroom upstairs that all five of them share, and showering often becomes a race against the water heater; whoever gets to the bathroom first is usually the only one to have a hot shower. They use whatever means necessary—bribes, elbows, threats, kicks in undesirable places—to get to the bathroom first.

Tonight, Leo’s the one who manages to get there earliest, but Annabeth gets second, and Percy’s laying on his bed doing nothing in particular when she slips into his room.

He sits up as she comes in, throwing his phone carelessly onto his desk. “Hey. What’s up?” Percy tries to keep his eyes on her face; she’s only wrapped in a thin, lavender robe, and he’s pretty sure she’s not wearing anything underneath.

They haven’t done anything since they got home, and Percy’s been missing it. He doesn’t want to make Annabeth uncomfortable, and they haven’t really had time to talk, alone, since they arrived.

But maybe this is their chance.

Annabeth sits on his bed, and he scoots over to make room for her. “I was just thinking we should talk,” she says softly.

Percy bobs his head in agreement, and there’s an awkward silence before he asks, “So… what exactly about?”

She glances up at him, and he knows her well enough to know that the crinkle in between her eyebrows means she’s anxious. “Well… we haven’t…”

“Hooked up?” Percy offers.

She swats at him, rolling her eyes fondly, and the awkwardness is gone, replaced by their old banter. “Yes, you butt. And I didn’t know if that… if it’s just a Hogwarts’ thing, or…”

“Hey.” Percy takes her hands. “Chase, you’re one of my best friends at this point, and I would never have invited you here for the summer if I didn’t want you to be here. It’s been kind of awkward, I know—” and they both laugh a little, “but I am more than okay with being with you like that—and still just friends—this summer, as well.”

Her face alights in a smile. “Good. And for the record, I… I feel the same way.”

Percy grins at her, and they sit there in a comfortable silence until a muffled shout from the bathroom breaks the silence. “I’m done, whoever’s next can use the shower!” Leo’s voice says.

Annabeth glances up at him, a little shy. “The water heater’s probably still good, but not for much longer. Do you… do you want to join me?”

Percy grins and grabs a towel. “It would be my pleasure, princess.”




After that, it’s easy between them; just like before, if not better. Percy couldn’t be happier, because what he told her is true—Annabeth is one of his best friends at this point, and the inexplicable awkwardness between them, even for that short time, had been harder on him than he could have imagined.

They bicker at the breakfast table even as their feet intertwine underneath it, or Percy’s hand slips up the smooth skin of her thighs while he hogs the jam and Annabeth sighs at him. The other Marauders laugh as Percy tugs on her ponytail when they all walk down to the beach in the mornings, and she grins at him impishly even as she smacks his hand away.

The five of them have chicken fights in the water, Annabeth climbing on Percy’s shoulders and facing down Leo, who’s usually on top of Jason. Grover prefers to referee most of the time, opting out of the violence, and whichever team gets knocked down first, sputtering and gasping as their heads pop out of the waves, loses. Percy and Annabeth make a formidable team, and they’re all ridiculously competitive, so the games often grow past a little more than friendly competition. Death threats and dirty talk are definitely _not_ against the rules, and on more than one occasion Percy has to physically drag Annabeth off of Leo (while Jason and Grover gasp with laughter as they watch, unhelpful as always).

And if Percy thought sneaking around Hogwarts was fun, sneaking around the house with four other people constantly around them is even more so—even if it _can_ be a little stressful sometimes.

They’re nearly caught numerous times before they decide that their hookups are going to have to be more careful, more planned, than the spontaneous sex they often had at school. If one of the other Marauders were to find out that he and Annabeth were hooking up… Percy doesn’t even want to imagine it.

It’s not so much the teasing or joking that he originally thought would be the result, if his friends knew; he and Annabeth share something now, precious and delicate and fragile. Maybe it’s a partnership, or a friendship, and sometimes he thinks it could be something more, but. It’s too fragile, too new, and he doesn’t think it would survive if other people were to know, even his best friends.

Plus, the four of them, the Marauders, are close— _so_ close, and Percy knows every one of their secrets, and he trusts them with (almost) all of his. If they were to find out, he thinks they would be hurt, maybe even betrayed, and he doesn’t want that, even if his reasons for keeping it a secret are valid.

So he doesn’t tell them, and he and Annabeth work to make sure they don’t find out.

Besides, as he soon remembers, sneaking around is _fun._

It’s the quick times; in the shower, when Annabeth gets first and invites Percy to join her, the sounds muffled by the steady stream of hot water and the pop music that Leo always blasts from the old boombox he found at a garage sale, usually just to annoy Jason.

Or at night, after the bonfire and into the wee hours of the morning, when everyone else has gone to bed and Percy’s left to put out the fire. Sometimes, Annabeth will sneak back out, and Percy will push her against the wall of the house and eat her out until he has to muffle her moans with his hand, the cool night breeze ruffling their hair and the taste of salt and smoke on Annabeth’s lips as she pulls him up for a sloppy kiss.

Early one morning in the beginning of July, Percy’s lying in bed and watching the sunrise. His window faces the east, so he always has a view of the sun coming up over the water, and the gorgeous sight never fails to give a good start to his morning.

He hears the floor creak in the hallway and sits up halfway, surprised. Normally everyone else gets up hours after he does; that’s one reason he enjoys getting up early. It’s his one quiet time in the day, his one chance to be by himself.

His door opens, and Annabeth’s curly head appears. She’s wearing that robe again, the almost-translucent lavender one that drives Percy crazy. He can see the outline of her lacy bra pressed against the thin, lilac fabric of the robe, and he raises his eyebrows.

She sits on his bed, brushing her long hair back with a quiet smile. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Percy manages, trying not to let his eyes stray.

Annabeth leans forward, gaze extending out the window. “The sunrise is gorgeous from here,” she says softly. She crosses her legs, and Percy can just barely see up the robe, and it’s kind of _killing_ him, but he manages to nod in agreement.

“Um. Yeah, the sunrise is gorgeous,” he says, hasty. “I like to get up early and watch it in the mornings. Kind of my quiet time, you know?”

She nods, ducking her head in a smile. “I understand that completely. With everyone in the same house, it can be a bit… _cramped,_ sometimes.”

Percy nods in agreement, and they laugh a little together before Annabeth raises her eyebrows. “So… do you want me to leave? So you can have these moments to yourself?”

“No!” Percy burst out, before—“No, of course not. You’re welcome to stay. No one else is even going to be up for hours, and, well—I want you to stay.”

“Good,” Annabeth says, smug, and then she climbs on top of him and kisses him.

Percy barely has time to thank his lucky stars that he actually brushed his teeth that morning when he woke up before he responds to the kiss. This obviously isn’t the first time he’s kissed Annabeth—not by a long shot—but normally their time together is fast, and rushed, and rough. And he likes it like that—they both do—but this is different. Slow, soft, deep, and he finds that he likes _this_ just as much.

Annabeth’s lips move against his, and he brushes his tongue against her teeth, hands wandering—up her legs, and scratching her back, and squeezing her ass. She tangles her fingers in his hair, and slowly he sits up against the headboard, and she straddles him, grinding against him slowly.

She leisurely lets the rob fall from her tan shoulders, mouth exploring his like they’ve never kissed before, and Percy moves his hands to cup her breasts, kneading the lace of her bra before moving to her back and fumbling with the clasp distractedly. He lets the bra fall to the floor and takes a moment to appreciate her breasts, because— _wow,_ he’ll never get tired of Annabeth’s boobs.

Annabeth quirks an eyebrow at him. “You just going to stare at my tits all day, or…”

He grins, quick, before trailing kisses along her skin—her jaw, her neck, her collarbones—and then he reaches her breasts, tongue laving against her nipple, and Annabeth’s head falls back in a silent cry.

Breathless, she leans toward him as he pulls back, kissing him again—deeply, messily, and there’s spit on his chin and she peppers kisses all over his face, making him laugh; then she goes down, pressing open-mouth kisses to his jaw, under his ear, and he can’t even _think._

He flips her over, and trails kisses down her body, to the softness of her navel and then drops pecks to her lacy panties, the inside of her thigh, her hipbones and belly and any skin he can get his mouth on.

Annabeth, panting, lets him pull down her underwear, and then he lets his tongue brush against her clit, and she gasps. He moves it quickly back and forth, causing her to inhale quickly and tangle her fingers in his hair, pulling almost painfully, her other hand tangled in the sheets. He lets his fingers part her folds and hit that sweet spot that always makes her cry out, tongue still flicking over her clit, and then she’s shuddering, gasping his name as she comes.

Slowly, he kisses up her still-trembling body, her sweaty skin slick against his lips. Annabeth pulls him up and kisses him sloppily, mouth slanted against him almost lazy, and they make out on the bed for a few minutes before she pulls back and pushes him over, crawling on top of him before kissing him again.

Percy never even had a chance to take off his shirt earlier, and he does so now, breaking the kiss to pull it over his head. Annabeth pulls down his boxers, and lets his erection spring free before settling herself on top of him. They both gasp a little, and then she begins to move. Percy frantically pushes himself forward, kissing her, and their bare skin of their chests are slick with sweat.

He feels his orgasm coming, the white-hot fire of pleasure growing and growing until he has to bite Annabeth’s shoulder to stifle his moans. Her walls tremble, and she lets out a soft cry as she comes, Percy tumbling over the edge with her.

She falls to the side next to him, and they lay on the sweaty sheets in peaceful, comfortable silence. Percy feels the thud of her heartbeat, the way she molds against him, the smell of her coconut-scented conditioner, and he thinks he never really wants to move.

They watch the sunrise together silently; it’s almost completely risen by now, the myriad colors shooting out over the sky above the ocean, and the great ball of liquid fire just barely peeking out over the horizon of the sea.

Annabeth glances up at him, raising her head from his chest. “I should probably go now.”

Percy nods, still unwilling to move, and she seems to understand, settling back down onto his shoulder quietly, but. He knows that soon his friends will be up, and his mum, and the day will start. These few uninterrupted moments are just that—fleeting moments in time that no one will ever know about.

Annabeth presses a quick kiss to his lips before hopping out of his bed. Percy, smirking, watches unapologetically as she saunters over to pick up her panties and bra, and then slipping her robe back on.

“See you in a bit,” she says, winking at him as she leaves, and Percy sends her an easy grin and wiggles his fingers lazily at her as she goes.

As the door closes, he sits up and stares out the window at the now fully-risen sun. This time had been— _different,_ and he thinks they both know it. Those few moments of just exploring each other’s bodies, of that casual, delicate intimacy their times together usually lacked, being destroyed in the rough, quick sex they normally had—it had been lovely. Beautiful, really, and Percy finds that he loves it, that sweet intimacy they had shared when everyone else in the house was fast asleep.

Maybe it’ll happen again; maybe it won’t. He doesn’t dwell on it, instead hopping into the shower, although Leo’s probably going to yell at him later for using up the hot water so early. Already he can hear the sounds of his friends waking up and getting out of bed, the noises from downstairs indicating that his mum has begun working her figurative magic in the kitchen.

Percy leans his face into the water, letting it pour over his shoulders, and smiles at the start of a new day.


	14. Chapter 14

“Get up, we’re going out,” Annabeth announces one afternoon a few days later.

Percy groans. He and the other Marauders are lying on damp towels on the beach, relaxing in the hot waves of sun beaming down from the blue heavens. Leo is snoring to high heaven, Grover’s reading a book, and Jason is busy building a sandcastle, because he and Annabeth are both secret architecture nerds and they’ve been working on different designs the past few weeks together.

The sun is warm and the gentle hum of waves crashing onto the beach is calming, and needless to say, Percy doesn’t exactly feel like getting up.

Annabeth’s foot prods him again. “I _said,_ get up. We’re going out.”

“We _are_ out,” Percy says, gesturing aimlessly to the miles of deserted sand around them.

Annabeth sighs. “As in, we’re going to London.”

“London?” Percy’s head pops up. “Why London?”

Annabeth shrugs. “Piper sent me a letter. She wants us to meet her at the pub she works at. She said she can get us in even though we’re underage.”

At the mention of his girlfriend, Jason perks up and trots over to them. “What are we doing?” he asks, and Annabeth patiently explains again.

“Oh yeah, she mentioned that,” Jason replies, bending down to grab his sandals. “So we’re going tonight?”

Annabeth nods. “We’re flooing to her house after dinner. I already talked to Sally, and she said if we were all back by four then we can clean up and leave by five or so.”

“And you’re just telling us now because…” Percy trails off.

She shrugs a tan shoulder, playing with one of her matted, sun-bleached curls. “I forgot earlier.”

Percy rolls his eyes, but turns to where Leo’s sprawled on the towel. “Hey, Valdez. Get up.”

Leo groans, flopping over. His dark curls are tangled with sand, and there are sleep marks on his cheek from the towel. “What?” he asks flatly, still half-asleep.

Percy stifles a laugh. “We’re going to London tonight, to the pub where Piper works.” When Leo fails to make a response, Percy shakes him again. “Pub? Pretty girls? Music? Alcohol?”

Leo’s eyes open, just a crack. “I’m _coming,_ ” he groans. “Quit kicking me, you lug.”

Percy rolls his eyes again and saunters back to the others, who are busily packing up the basket with the beach toys and sandy towels from the day at the shore. “I call first shower!”

Grover scowls at him, his nose dark with freckles and peeling with sunburn. “You know that’s not how it works, Percy.”

He shrugs, reaching over to grab the beach umbrella. “Well, it was worth a try, I suppose.”

Within a few minutes, the five of them manage to reach the house relatively unscathed. Percy drops all the towels into the laundry and dumps the beach toys in the shed before heading to the kitchen with the rest of his friends.

“Hey, mum,” he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She ruffles his hair, making a face at the sand that tumbles from his dark locks. “Go help Annabeth set the table please, honey. Jason’s outside shaking out some rugs, and Leo and Grover are upstairs stripping the sheets. They’re long past needing to be washed at this point.”

Percy nods amiably, turning to the silverware drawer and counting out five forks. “’beth, you got the plates?” he calls towards the general direction of the dining room.

“Yep, just need you to fetch the glasses. I’ll get the napkins,” Annabeth says as she walks briskly back into the kitchen. She’s thrown an oversized sweatshirt over her bikini, which Percy knows is smart; their air conditioning hasn’t worked in years, but his mum constantly runs fans all over the house, and the chilly air is cooling his damp swim trunks and causing goosebumps to rise on his bare chest.

He whistles to himself as he helps Annabeth set the table, playfully bickering over which way the napkins should go, and _what the hell, Percy, were you raised in a barn, the forks go on the left side of the plate—_ and Percy rolls his eyes, _I’m hungry, princess, does it look like I care about your royal etiquette—_ and then Sally enters and scolds them teasingly as she carefully sets a full pot of steaming pasta on the table.

Annabeth is sent to call the boys inside, just as it’s beginning to rain, and they all tromp through the front door, laughing and shouting.

Sally insists on washing up, since none of them had time to take showers before eating, and then they all sit at the table as she dishes out the food. The boys all dig in hungrily, and Annabeth can keep up with the best of them. They all devour helping after helping, Sally more than happy to oblige the hungry teenage appetites.

When they’re all full to bursting and the plates scraped bare, Sally shoos them upstairs.

“Aw, mum, we can help clean up—” Percy begins to protest.

The others join in. “Yeah, Mrs. Jackson, you’ve been working all day, and—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Sally insists. “You all are going out tonight, I’ll do the dishes. But tomorrow I’m putting you all to work, do you understand?” 

They laughingly promise to help the next day before tromping up the stairs. “You all are supposed to floo to Piper’s in less than an hour!” Sally reminds them, fondly watching them go. “Better hurry!”

“I’ve got to shower first, my hair takes the longest to dry,” Annabeth announces bossily as soon as they get upstairs, her look challenging any of the boys to fight her.

Jason sighs in defeat. “Fine, but as long as I get to go next.”

“Aw, does Jason need some time to primp up before seeing his girlfriend?” Leo teases, making kissy faces at him.

Jason scowls. “No, I just—” and the rest of his sentence is cut off as Percy enters his bedroom, smiling to himself at his friends’ antics.

He jumps in the shower as soon as Annabeth’s finished, quickly washing up before wrapping a towel around his waist and heading back to his room. He spends a little more time on his outfit than he’s used to—the past few weeks they haven’t even left the house other than to go to the beach, and the casual shorts and no shirt ensemble he’s been using won’t work for a club.

Eventually, he decides on a pair of slim-fitting jeans and a white button-up, the color contrasting against his deeply tanned skin. He pulls on a pair of Converse, fights Leo for the sink so he can brush his teeth, and surveys himself in the mirror.

He looks pretty good, he thinks.

He heads to Annabeth’s room. She’s already dressed, her damp hair cascading down her back as she applies her makeup in the mirror.

Percy whistles teasingly, and she blushes as she finishes her mascara and stands up. He surveys her; she, too, has gotten dressed up. She’s wearing a tight leather miniskirt and black stiletto heels, and a white, lacy, skintight crop top that exposes more of her smooth skin than it covers. Percy thinks she looks incredible—and to him, she _always_ looks incredible, but. This is kind of over the top. He might die before the night ends.

She saunters over to him. “Stand still,” she orders, running her hand through his hair as she makes it look effortlessly messy in a way he never can.

“Well, thanks,” Percy replies, grinning. “I was going to get my mum to fix my hair, but.”

Annabeth’s nimble fingers roll up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, revealing his tan forearms, then she steps back to survey her work.

Percy spreads his arms. “How do I look?” he asks.

“Sexy,” Annabeth decides, and then she squeals as Percy steps forward and kisses her.

It would be easy to get lost in the kiss, to take it farther, but Percy’s all too aware that his friends are right outside, and he pulls back. Annabeth seems to understand as she rushes to the mirror.

“Dammit, Percy, you messed up my lipstick,” she teases, reapplying it, and now that’s all he can think about. He comes up behind her and moves her damp curls to the side, kissing her neck. Her head falls back as a sigh escapes her lips, her knuckles white as she clutches the vanity.

They’re interrupted by a knock on the door. “You ready to go, ‘beth?” Jason calls.

They jump apart, and Annabeth shoots him a dirty look before steadying her voice. “Uh—yes, I’ll be right out,” she calls, and Percy smirks at her.

“You sure about that, princess?” he asks, voice low.

She shoves at him playfully. “Shut up, Jackson. Quit distracting me.”

Quickly, they both head downstairs to join the others. Jason’s wearing a sky-blue button-up, and he’s fidgeting with the buttons on the wrists nervously. Annabeth leaves Percy’s side and heads over to him to roll up his sleeves as she did for Percy.

“Relax, Jase,” Percy hears her say quietly. “You and Piper have been writing ever since school ended, and it hasn’t been that long.”

“Yeah, but this is the first time I’ve seen her since Hogwarts,” Jason murmurs. “I’m just—I’m nervous.”

Annabeth pats him on the chest affectionately. “Seriously, calm down. I’m her best friend, and trust me when I say she’s over the moon about you. She’s not going to dump you just because you guys haven’t seen each other in a few weeks.”

Jason’s voice is soft. “Thanks, Annabeth.”

She beams at him. “No problem.”

Percy turns away to hide his smile. The past few weeks have turned the Marauders and Annabeth’s relationship from friends to family, and it’s kind of amazing, thinking back to the time when none of them trusted her, when he _hated_ her.

His mum interrupts his thoughts as she puts her arm around his shoulder, despite being a head shorter than him. She beams at the teenagers. “You all look wonderful. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes ma’am,” Percy replies, kissing her cheek. “We’ll just floo out of the chimney, if that’s alright.”

“Fine by me, although it’s quite strange for me to think about,” Sally says, fanning herself with a dishtowel. “To think that you can just—go through a _chimney_ and appear somewhere else, is incredible.”

Annabeth laughs delightedly. “I’d love to see your reaction to Hogwarts,” she says, hugging Sally quickly. “We’ll probably be back quite late, so don’t wait up for us.”

The other Marauders quickly say farewell to Sally before disappearing, one by one, into the fireplace.

Percy and Annabeth are last, and Sally raises her eyebrows at them knowingly. “You two behave yourselves,” she chides, teasing,

Annabeth blushes as she grabs a handful of floo powder from the jar that sits on the mantel. “We will, don’t worry.” She closes her eyes, distinctly pronounces “Gold Cauldron Pub!” and then she’s gone in a puff of ash.

Percy blows a kiss to his mum and steps into the fireplace, and then suddenly he’s upside down and the world is swirling before he tumbles out of another chimney.

He gets to his feet, and can hear people talking below him. Annabeth and the Marauders are a few feet away, chatting with Piper.

“Hey, Percy,” Annabeth says, catching sight of him. “You made it.”

“Yep,” Percy says. “Hey, McLean.”

She smirks at him, Jason’s arm around her shoulders. “Hey, Jackson.”

“How’s business?”

Piper shrugs. “Not bad. I’m actually enjoying working here a lot.”

Percy nods. “Cool. Oh, you should come by sometime,” he remembers to tell her. “Anytime you’re free from work, my mum would love to meet you, and you can hang out with us at the beach.”

Piper’s expression relaxes. “Well, thanks, Percy,” she says, a little surprised. “I’d love to. Next weekend?”

“Sounds good,” Percy says, offering her a thumbs up as he goes to stand in between Annabeth and Leo.

“So,” Piper says, clapping her hands, “we’re currently setting up, and the early birds should get here in about an hour. The real crowd starts filtering in at about nine or so.”

Percy grins. “Awesome. Anything we can do to help?”

Piper surveys him curiously. “Who are you and what have you done with Percy Jackson?” she asks, playfully awed.

Percy laughs, ducking his head. “You got us in here, just trying to return the favor.”

She raises her eyebrows, shaking her head. “Well then, I guess wonders will never cease. Let’s head downstairs—I suppose you guys can help me and Will set up.”




As the sun goes down, the crowd gets larger, and the minutes pass until it’s past ten o’clock and the club is packed. Music pounds from the speakers as people dance and down shots, waving their hands to the beat. Since it’s a magic club, there are a couple of accidental spells let loose—the bar has a rule that no one can touch their wand past four drinks, but accidents still happen.

Percy and Annabeth sip their drinks at a little table in the corner, watching their friends dance fondly. “This is bringing back memories of the Halloween party at Hogwarts,” Annabeth remarks, playing with her empty cup absentmindedly.

Percy laughs. “Yeah. That was fun, wasn’t it?”

She smiles at him. “It was. That was the first time I’d been to one of your parties, and I must say, it exceeded my expectations.”

Percy aims finger guns at her. “In all the best ways, right?”

She snorts. “Right.”

They sit in silence for a while, bobbing their heads to the heavy, pounding beat of the music and watching their friends have fun in the strobing lights. Leo apparently has made a new friend, dancing with a girl in a white mini dress, and Jason and Piper are making out on the dance floor. Even Grover, who normally dislikes social interaction, seems to be having fun—he’s talking to one of his friends from Hogwarts, Juniper Green, and they’re both laughing and blushing.

Percy offers his hand to Annabeth. “Shall we dance?”

“We’re not drunk enough for that yet,” Annabeth says drily, and Percy remembers saying that at the Halloween party. The memory is random, and kind of funny, and he laughs.

“What?” Annabeth inquires as she stands to flag down the bartender.

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

They down their shots quickly, and then Annabeth allows him to pull her onto the dance floor. They dance for a while, waving their hands to the music and doing ridiculous dance moves that Annabeth would probably never be caught dead doing normally. Percy wiggles his butt, and Annabeth chokes with laughter, and then she does some ridiculous hair flip and Percy’s stomach hurts from laughing.

The lights start to get fuzzier, and the music louder, and Percy vaguely remembers dancing a bit with Leo and Jason and even Piper, swinging them around and yelling out the lyrics crazily. He finds Grover and Juniper in a corner making out, and he and Annabeth squeal together until Grover’s face is a fiery red and he runs off with Juniper.

Percy reaches to sling an arm over Annabeth’s shoulder, but she’s not next to him anymore, and he nearly falls before righting himself and looking around for Annabeth. He spots her blond curls and lopes toward her before seeing who else is with her.

It’s a tall, blond guy—fit and muscular, with just a hint of stubble on his chiseled jaw—maybe a few years older than Annabeth. They’re chatting and laughing like they’ve known each other for years, and Percy _bristles._

He goes over and slings his arm over her shoulder, sizing the other guy up. The blond man’s a few inches taller than him, but not by much. “Hey,” he says, cool. “Who are you?”

The other guy laughs, and Annabeth giggles as she introduces him. “Percy, this is Luke Castellan, an old friend of mine. He’s been going to Beauxbatons, so I haven’t seen him in years, but his father just got a job here in London, so he’ll be going to Hogwarts for his seventh year.”

Percy nods. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m sure.”

Luke nods, not looking particularly pleased about Percy’s arm around Annabeth. Percy doesn’t particularly care. “Likewise.”

“You wanna get out of here?” Percy murmurs to Annabeth, so Luke can’t hear.

Annabeth understands. “Sure,” she whispers, before turning to Luke again. “It was so good to see you again, Luke,” she says. “We should meet up sometime before school starts.”

Luke pulls her into a hug that lasts longer than Percy would have liked. “You too, ‘beth,” he says, pulling back. “And of course, that would be brilliant. Owl me sometime, yeah?”

She nods, blushing, and Luke gives her one last blinding smile before turning around and disappearing into the pulsing crowd.

“I don’t like the way he was looking at you,” Percy mutters.

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “Percy, I’ve known him since we were children. Our parents are old friends, and my mother got his father the job here in London, working in the Ministry of Magic.”

Percy nods, but doesn’t say anything.

“So what were you saying, about getting out of here?” Annabeth changes the subject coyly, twirling a curl around her finger.

Percy grins, any thoughts of Luke immediately disappearing from his mind. “Follow me,” he says and grabs her hand, leading her out of the packed club and into the alleyway outside.

The cool summer-night air feels good compared to the stifled heat and the smell of packed, sweaty bodies inside. Percy and Annabeth lean against the wall as the door closes behind them and effectively cuts off the blasting music, though they can both still hear the muffled shouting still.

Percy takes a quick glance around, and the dim lighting reveals that they are the only ones anywhere near. He’s drunk, he can tell, and Annabeth is too.

She kisses him sloppily against the wall, and Percy smiles against her lips even as he runs his hands against her skin, twists his fingers in her hair.

This is definitely the best summer of his life.




It’s three in the morning before they all meet up again, drunk and exhausted. The Marauders and Annabeth bid farewell to Piper and the few stragglers left inside the club before climbing the stairs to the room above the club with the fireplace, where they flooed in earlier.

“She said she liked me,” Leo giggles, exulted, clutching Annabeth for balance as he climbs the stairs. “Your hair smells pretty, ‘beth. Like… like sunshine, or something.”

“Thanks, Leo,” Annabeth answers, rolling her eyes. Out of all of them, Percy’s pretty sure he and Annabeth are the most sober, though it isn’t really saying much.

Jason stops and throws up, and Percy, sighing, wipes his mouth with his shirt sleeve. “You okay, mate?”

Jason groans. “I want to… I want to sleep,” he says confusedly. “With Piper. I want to sleep with Piper, Percy, why can’t she come home with us—”

“Buddy, we all know you want to sleep with Piper, and none of us really want to hear about it,” Percy tells him dryly. “Where’s your wand—okay here, drink this water. Grover, how’re you doing?”

Grover’s sitting on the floor, looking up at the ceiling adoringly. “I like the stars,” he mumbles. “So many people don’t know about light pollution, and—other stuff that I can’t remember, but. You can’t see the stars in the city.”

Percy raises his eyebrows. “You also can’t see the stars _inside_ , which is where we are, my dude. Chase, a little help here—” he gestures to Jason, who has slumped over and is snoring loudly, his cheek pressed into the ground and butt in the air.

Annabeth groans and gently sets Leo on the floor before coming to Jason. “Jase, wake up. We’ve got to go.”

“Go?” Jason asks blearily, eyes still closed. “Where?”

Annabeth closes her eyes momentarily before opening them and pasting a smile on her face. “Home, Jason. We’re going home.”

“Huh,” Jason considers, his words slurring. “I like home.”

Annabeth’s smile is soft. “I know, Jason. I do, too.”

It takes a while, but they eventually get Grover, Leo, and Jason into the fireplace and sent back to Percy’s house. Annabeth leans against Percy’s chest, and he holds her close, knowing how exhausted she is.

“Did you have a good night, then?” he asks.

She grins a little. “Yeah. Yeah, it was fun.” Annabeth yawns widely, slumping against him. “I don’t know how much longer I can stay awake, though.”

Percy lets a smile slip onto his face. “Here,” he says, scooping her up bridal-style. “I’ll carry you.”

Annabeth giggles, her arms entwining around his neck. “Thanks, Percy,” she says, her eyes already closing as she nestles in his arms.

Percy smiles, stepping into the fireplace. “You’re welcome, Annabeth.” He kisses her forehead, and sees she’s already asleep. “Let’s go home.”


	15. Chapter 15

A few days later, Percy sticks his head into Annabeth’s room. The other Marauders are at the beach, but Annabeth opted to have a quiet day at home, and Percy hadn’t been able to fall asleep the night before. Consequently, he hadn’t even gotten out of bed until almost noon.

He _loves_ summer, honestly.

“Hey, Perce,” Annabeth greets him as he wanders in, setting aside her book and scooting over to make room for him on her bed. “What’s up?”

Percy grins at her. “I was wondering if you’d like to go to the movies with me,” he says, flourishing grandly.

Annabeth gasps, sitting up. “You mean, a real Muggle theatre? With popcorn and—what did you call them, soft drinks?”

Percy laughs. “Yep. There’s some chick flick playing this afternoon—probably not any good, but. We can go and have a good time, right?”

“Of course!” Annabeth jumps up from the bed and pulls her camisole over her head with no pretense of modesty. “Let me get changed, and I’ll meet you downstairs?”

Percy salutes as he heads out the door. “See you in a few,” he promises before heading to his own room and throwing on sleeveless shirt and a pair of board shorts, grabs his sandals, and runs his fingers through his hair before heading downstairs.

“We’re going to the movies, mum,” he tells Sally, who doesn’t even look up from her book.

“Okay, dears,” she says absentmindedly. “Have fun.”

“We will,” Annabeth promises as she comes down the stairs. Percy lets his eyes flit up and down her body shamelessly; she’s pulled on a short blue sundress with little flowers on it, the spaghetti straps taut against her tan shoulders.

“Are you flooing or walking to town?” his mother asks, still engrossed in her book.

Percy shrugs. “It’s a beautiful day out. What do you say, Annabeth? Want to walk? There’s a lot I haven’t shown you here in Southwold yet.”

Annabeth flashes a bright smile. “That would be brilliant.”

Percy offers her his arm. “Shall we?”

He opens the door for her after bidding Sally farewell, and they begin walking down the long, sandy driveway, Annabeth’s curls blowing in the salty breeze. Percy breathes in deeply, closing his eyes and soaking up the rays of sunlight filtering through the tall oaks shading the road. He can hear the seagulls cawing down at the beach, mixed with distant playful shouts blowing up from where his friends are playing in the water.

“You excited?” he asks, glancing over at Annabeth.

“Yeah,” she confirms, ducking her head and smiling. “It feels silly, because this is so normal for muggles, but—”

“But you’ve grown up in an entirely different community, so it’s not silly to be excited to try something new,” Percy tells her firmly. “Besides, you should have seen how thrilled I was the first time I went to Diagon Ally to get my school supplies. Everything was so new, and different, and—unlike anything I’d ever seen, growing up.”

Annabeth’s smile is a little shy. “Yeah, I think I know what you mean,” she muses, taking his hand almost absentmindedly.

They continue walking in easy conversation, laughing over events of the past few weeks and considering ideas for things to do before the summer ended. Before Percy even realizes it, they’re in downtown Southwold.

Now Southwold, the little seaside town where Sally and Percy had moved after Gabe died, is relatively small, Percy knows—especially compared to London, which Annabeth is used to. But as he watches her face light up as they walk hand-in-hand down the bustling little streets, passing through rows of small shops and their sandals crunching on the little shells scattered over the sidewalk, he decides that maybe—just maybe—she could grow to love it just as much as he does.

He buys her a pastry from a family-owned bakery as they pass, somewhere he and his mum used to often go in the mornings the summer before his first year at Hogwarts. She thanks him, eyes bright and sugar sparkling on her lip, and he kisses her cheek impulsively.

The afternoon sun beats down on their shoulders, and the shade of the small movie theatre is welcome after the summer heat. Annabeth fans her flushed cheeks as Percy pays for the tickets.

“Is Annabeth Chase ready to face one of the staples of the muggle world?” Percy asks in a low voice as they wait in the short line for the movie.

Annabeth giggles. “I certainly am,” she says primly as he opens the door for her.

Percy holds up a finger. “Oh, wait! This is your first time at the movies. We have to do this _right._ ”

Annabeth raises her eyebrows. “Um. Okay?”

He leads the way to the concession stand. “Two tall lemonades and one large bucket of popcorn, please,” he tells the bored-looking teenager stand behind the counter.

Annabeth’s eyes widen as Percy offers her a handful of popcorn as they find their seats in back of the darkened theatre. “This is _amazing._ What did you call it— _popcorn?_ ”

Percy grins, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Yep. Dripping with butter and probably ridiculously unhealthy, but completely worth every single drop of cholesterol.”

Annabeth lets out a bright peal of laughter, causing some people to turn around and glare at them. Percy takes a second to look at her, her features shadowed in the darkness of the theatre and highlighted with the beginning credits rolling on the huge screen.

Now, okay. Percy’s a teenage boy, and he may or may not have been looking forward to carrying out Annabeth’s _entire_ experience at the movie theatre, complete with making out at the back of the theatre while the movie plays.

Unfortunately for his plan, Annabeth becomes completely absorbed in the movie as soon as it begins playing. She’s like a five-year-old, her eyes glued to the screen and her fingers drumming excitedly on her legs.

At first, Percy’s a little peeved, but she’s so _cute,_ the way she laughs brightly at whenever there’s a funny part in the movie, or wipes a tear away at a sad moment and then glares at him when he laughs at her.

He becomes more engrossed in her than in the movie, watching her reactions and the way the screen highlights her cheekbones and curls, and _damn,_ he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of watching Annabeth. Of course, by the end of the movie he has absolutely no idea what the storyline was or the names of the main characters were, but.

He thinks he could live off of Annabeth’s smile.

They leave the movie theatre with Annabeth chattering a mile a minute about the movie, and okay, Percy’s not actually _listening_ to what she’s saying, because he kind of got distracted with how her nose is scrunching when she laughs or shakes her head.

“So, you liked it?” he finally interrupts when they’re on the sandy driveway leading back to the house.

Annabeth’s eyes are sparkling. “I _loved_ it,” she announces. “Muggles have some really amazing contraptions.”

Percy smothers a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, they do.” He gestures a little awkwardly. “So, there’s another thing that’s sometimes part of the whole movie-experience.”

Annabeth raises her eyebrows. “Yeah? What’s that?”

He steps closer until they’re nose-to-nose, the afternoon sun filtering through the trees to highlight freckles on her skin. “Normally, we would be making out in the back of the theatre,” he murmurs as he leans forward and kisses her, “but you seemed to really like the movie, so.”

Annabeth giggles against his lips. “I guess we’ll just have to go back. You know, so I can get the _entire_ experience.”

Percy grins. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess we will.”




“So are you all going to the beach today?” Sally asks them a few mornings later, as all of them hungrily devour heaps of pancakes that she’d made earlier.

Percy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, earning him a pointed glare from his mother, which he ignores. “Yeah, I think so.” He glances around. “Anything else happening that I don’t know about?”

There are a chorus of slightly muffled _no_ ’s from the boys around the table, all speaking with their mouths full. Sally rolls her eyes.

“Actually, I need to floo to my house in London,” Annabeth announces, delicately wiping her mouth with a napkin and setting her cup on her plate neatly. Sally beams.

“What? Why? Are you leaving?” Percy asks immediately.

Annabeth laughs. “Calm down, Perce. I just thought I’d stop by, see my parents, grab a few things that I’ve been needing. I’ll be back tonight.”

Percy relaxes, leaning back in his chair. “Good, I was worried,” he teases. “What would we do without you?”

Annabeth looks up at the ceiling mischievously. “Crash and burn, probably,” she decides as she stands up. “Hey, Percy. Would you like to come with me?”

Percy gulps. “You mean—to your parents’ house? To _meet_ them?”

Annabeth sighs. “No, I want you to come with me to Antarctica to meet a penguin. _Honestly_.”

“I was just _confirming,_ ” he grumbles as he stands up, taking his and Annabeth’s plate to the kitchen. “You’re so rude.”

She flashes him a smile over her shoulder. “Sorry.”

“I’m sure,” he deadpans.

Annabeth glances at the large grandfather clock that ticks comfortingly from the living room. “Can you be ready to leave in about thirty minutes?”

Percy shrugs, rolling up the sleeves of his giant pajama shirt so he can wash the dishes without getting soaked. “Sure.”

“Thanks, Perce,” she says, and with one last blinding smile, she disappears up the stairs.

Sally enters the kitchen, watching Annabeth go as she sips her coffee. “Meeting her parents,” she comments. “Isn’t that a bit fast?”

“ _Mum,_ ” Percy whines, playfully hitting her with a towel. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just _saying_ ,” Sally replies in a sing-song voice, obviously fighting back a smile.

Percy just groans and turns back to the dishes.

“You’re actually nervous about this, aren’t you?” Sally observes, sounding a little surprised.

He nods silently, scrubbing the inside of a cup with more force than is probably necessary.

“You know, she was nervous too, when she asked you,” his mother tells him, settling on one of the kitchen chairs.

“Why would _she_ be nervous?” Percy grumbles. “We’re going to _her_ ginormous mansion and meeting _her_ parents and getting _her_ things. _I’m_ the one who has an excuse to be nervous here.”

“Honey, you don’t find it odd at all that Annabeth’s received a total of two letters from her parents since she got here?” Sally asks mildly. “Not to mention, she’s been at our house all summer without one visit. The boys have all gone home to see their families at different times, at least for a few days each, but…”

“Yeah, I guess,” Percy admits. “She—she doesn’t have the best relationship with her parents. It’s not like it was for me with Gabe, because her parents actually do _care_ about her, but. They just don’t really show it, and it’s hard for her.”

Sally nods, standing up and placing her empty coffee cup in the sink. “So support her,” she says softly. “Show her that you’re there for her, and that will help her immeasurably, even if she doesn’t show it.”

Percy nods. “I—I will. Thanks, mum.”

She kisses him on the cheek. “As always, never a problem. I love you, Percy.”

He smiles, watching as she turns down the hallway to her room. “Love you too.”

“And please put away those dishes!” she calls over her shoulder.

Percy huffs out a laugh, grabbing a dish towel. “Sure thing.”

After he finishes the dishes, he heads upstairs to change, which is when his inward debate begins. Annabeth’s parents are at the top of the magical world, not to mention quite wealthy.

Should he wear robes, or his normal muggle clothing?

Maybe a suit?

Wait, no. Annabeth’s parents are more traditional in their views; even a suit would remind them that he’s the muggleborn.

_Robes it is, then._

He manages to find his one nice set of dress robes and get them relatively unwrinkled before pulling them on and doing his hair.

Annabeth walks in as he’s brushing his teeth. “Why are you wearing robes?” she asks amusedly, leaning against the doorway and trying to stifle her laughter.

“Yerumsertally—” he garbles before Annabeth raises her hand.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full of toothpaste, it’s literally dribbling down your chin and I can’t understand you and it’s disgusting.”

Percy tries to mimic her voice because he’s kind of petty and also just likes getting a rise out of Annabeth, but the effect is kind of ruined because the toothpaste dribbles down from his chin onto his shirt and okay, she’s right, it’s disgusting. He spits out the toothpaste and rinses out his mouth before deliberately turning to Annabeth, who’s tapping her foot impatiently as she waits for him.

“Are you done?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

Percy takes a deep breath and tries again. “Your mum is literally the Minister for Magic.” He spreads his hands, accidently getting water on the floor. “First impressions are a real thing, Annabeth!”

He can see that she’s trying to contain her giggles. “Percy, my parents don’t mind if I wear muggle-style clothing when I’m not at school.”

Percy surveys her. She has on a pair of denim shorts and a cropped t-shirt, but. Annabeth looks good in _anything._ He’s probably going to look homeless.

“Okay, fine. _You_ pick out my outfit, then,” he says, gesturing to his closet.

Annabeth hums, filtering through his sparse selection of clothing. “These and—hmm, I think this should be good,” she decided, pulling out a pair of tight-fitting khaki shorts and white t-shirt.

Percy raises an eyebrow. On one hand, those are his favorite shorts, and Annabeth’s teasingly told him before how good he looks in white, but. These are Annabeth’s _parents._

“Oh, stop overthinking it and just get dressed,” Annabeth orders, rolling her eyes and throwing the clothes at him. “Also, brush your hair!”

“I did!” Percy calls indignantly as she exits his room.

“Well, brush it again, then!”

He grumbles to himself, but obliges before throwing on his clothes and heading downstairs.

Annabeth’s already in the living room by the fireplace, tapping her sneaker impatiently. “Oh, there you are,” she snarks as he takes the stairs two-at-a-time. “Could you have taken a little longer? I was getting ready to take a nap.”

“Har, har,” Percy says sarcastically. “Are your parents expecting us?”

She nods, twisting a blonde curl absentmindedly. “We have a charm on our flooing network, so not just anyone can get in. We learned the hard way after my mum became the minister that having an open floo system was a dangerous idea.”

Percy laughs a little, thinking of the random people popping up in Annabeth’s living room. “Smart. So you had them open it for us?”

She nods, grabbing a handful of floo powder from the jar. “We should be good to go. Chase Mansion,” she says clearly as she throws the powder into the fireplace, and with a _whoosh,_ she’s gone.

Percy shakes his head as he takes a handful of powder. “Of course it’s called the _Chase Mansion,_ ” he mumbles before throwing his powder into the ashes and enunciating clearly his destination.

He arrives in a whirlwind of ashes, and okay. Percy’s not normally a _clumsy_ person, per say, but. Somehow his foot catches on something in the fireplace and as soon as the floor materializes under him, he goes flying.

He tumbles out of the fireplace and lands on a thick Persian rug, coughing through the clouds of ash that scatter around him and waving his hand to clear the air before looking up into a very stern, yet somehow familiar, pair of grey eyes.

Annabeth rushes over and helps him up, talking hastily as she pulls him to his feet. “Percy, this is my mum, Athena Chase and the Minister for Magic.”

Percy waves weakly, still choking on ash dust and his knees aching from tumbling out of the fireplace. “Um. Hi?”

Athena Chase surveys him the way someone would look at a beetle. Percy surveys her right back, taking every aspect of her stern figure in. She’s tall—taller than Annabeth, and apart from their almost identical eyes, mother and daughter look nothing alike. Athena’s dark, straight brown hair is tied back severely away from her face, and her thin, bony form is draped in a set of formal black robes.

_Dammit,_ Percy thinks, inwardly snapping his fingers. _I knew I should have worn my robes._

After a minute or so of very awkward silence, Athena turns to Annabeth. “So this is the young man you’ve mentioned in your letters?” she asks, and her voice is deeper and smoother than Percy would have expected.

Annabeth nods, biting her lip nervously. “Yes, ma’am.”

“The one you’ve been spending the summer with?” Athena continues, her eagle-sharp gaze back on Percy.

“Yes, ma’am,” Annabeth answers again, sighing.

“Is your name really Percy, or is that a moniker for something else?” Athena asks severely, addressing him for the first time.

Percy gulps. “Um. My actual name is Perseus, if that’s what you were asking. My mum’s just always called me Percy.”

Athena nods, looking satisfied. “Very well, Perseus. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

The way she says it makes Percy think that it isn’t actually much of a pleasure, but. He decides to not press the issue, mostly because the Minister for Magic is a bit terrifying and he might have said something ridiculously embarrassing had he actually opened his mouth.

Annabeth raises her eyebrows. “So, can I run upstairs with Percy to grab a few things from my room? We won’t be long. I want to show him the stables and the lake before we leave.”

Athena nods. “That should be acceptable, yes. Stay as long as you would like, Perseus. Keep the door open in your room, Annabeth, and tell me whether you both are staying for dinner. I’ll have to tell the house elves.” With a sweep of her long cloak, Athena exits the room without a second glance.

Percy collapses onto one of the plush, expensive-looking chairs dotting the living room. “I did it,” he says in awe. “I met your mother, and I survived.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes, attempting to pull him to his feet. “Yes, you survived, you idiot. What did you think she was going to do, pull the _Avada Kedavra_ on you because you got ash dust all over her rug? Smooth, by the way,” she adds with a raised eyebrow towards the dirty smudges on the carpet.

“I survived,” Percy repeats, still in awe.

“Percy. My room. Right now,” Annabeth orders, giving up on pulling him to his feet.

Percy stands up slowly, before actually noticing the room he’s in for the first time. It’s a huge living room, with large portraits in gilded frames on the walls—the painted characters moving around and chatting, as magical paintings do—and the expensive rugs, the golden ornaments, the richly-colored wallpaper.

“Annabeth, you live in a _palace,_ ” he says in amazement, slowly spinning around to take it all in.

Annabeth huffs and grabs his hand. “Come _on,_ Percy. You can look at it later. I want to show you around.”

“Technically speaking, this is all your house, so not letting me look at your living room is already screwing up the _showing me around_ idea—”

“Shut up, Percy.”

He follows Annabeth upstairs, keeping his growing amazement and open gaping at her house to a minimum, though it’s pretty difficult. Annabeth literally lives in a _mansion_ ; Percy’s pretty sure the rug he’s walking on cost more than his entire house.

Finally, after going up three separate staircases and passing an immeasurable number of rooms and closets and hallways—Percy knows that he would probably be completely and utterly lost and that he’d probably never get to the front door again without Annabeth guiding him—she opens a door and ushers him inside. “Welcome to my humble abode,” she says, bowing dramatically.

Annabeth’s room is surprisingly plain and simple compared to the glory and grandeur of the rest of the house, but it’s still obviously expensive. There’s a four-poster bed with thick, satin lavender curtains drawn around it; the rug covering the shiny wooden floors is simple and cream-colored with lavender flowers that match the curtains, and the vanity is the same dark wood as the floor and the bed frame. There’s a large window letting in the early afternoon sunlight, dappled along the cozy window seat where a few throw pillows and books are strewn carelessly. It smells like the jasmine of her perfume and a hint of sweet-smelling laundry detergent, and honestly Percy kind of wants to live here and never leave.

“You like it?” Annabeth asks teasingly from where she’s half-buried in clothes in the large walk-in closet.

Percy nods, grinning a little. “I have to admit, you have good taste, princess,” he says, walking around and admiring the general splendor.

“Well, thanks,” she says brightly, reappearing with a pile of clothes in her arms, which she then dumps on the bed. “I’m just going to grab a few more outfits so your poor mother doesn’t have to do so much laundry—”

“You know she doesn’t care, right? Seriously. She loves when I’m home with friends and taking care of us since she doesn’t get the chance during the school year.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but still. And plus, I want to show you around, and you should meet my dad, too.”

“Is he even home? I mean, he’s the chief editor of the _Daily Prophet,_ so I thought he worked at the headquarters,” Percy asks absentmindedly, studying Annabeth’s collection of delicate jewelry on her vanity.

“It’s Saturday, so he should be in his study. That’s why my mum’s home, too—normally she’s gone, but on Saturday she usually has a few meetings in the morning,” Annabeth explains, “and then she comes home and buries herself in her office, because why come home to be with your family when you could just work the whole time?” There’s a hint of bitterness in her tone that Percy doesn’t miss.

He touches her hand, causing her to take a break from busily stuffing clothes into a bag. “For the record, I think she doesn’t know how much she’s missing out on,” he says, soft, and a small smile slips onto Annabeth’s face.

“Thanks, Percy.”

They work in comfortable silence for a little while after that, packing some things Annabeth needs and just lounging around in her room.

“Okay, I think I’m finished,” Annabeth says finally, surveying her work. The bag is relatively small for everything she’s packed, but Percy knows she probably cast an Undetectable Extension charm on it, because she’s Annabeth and she thinks of everything.

“I think you brought everything besides your bed,” he comments mildly, collapsing onto the window seat dramatically.

“Nope, I didn’t bring the vanity, either. Thought it might be a bit much,” Annabeth quips, flopping down next to him.

“Right,” Percy snorts.

Annabeth sits up, grinning. “So, you want to explore?”

He hops up. “Lead the way, princess.”

He follows her down the maze of grand stairways and beautiful halls until they reach another room. There’s a light under the door, and Percy raises his eyebrows as she opens it.

“Hey, dad,” she says, and Percy follows her in.

The study is small and cozy and cluttered, and there’s a balding blond man scribbling furiously at the desk who looks up as they come in, a tired smile appearing on his lined face. “Annabeth! What a lovely surprise. I thought that maybe you wouldn’t be here at all this summer.”

Annabeth flushes as he gets up and embraces her somewhat awkwardly. “I needed to pick up some things, and I wanted to see you and Mum.”

“And who is this?” her father asks, his gaze flitting to Percy.

Percy nods politely. “My name is Percy Jackson. Annabeth and I have been friends at school, and she’s staying with me and a few friends at my house this summer.”

Mr. Chase snaps his fingers. “Right! You’re the young man she mentioned in her letters. Are you two together, or…”

“We’re just friends,” Annabeth says hastily, before Percy can even open his mouth.

Percy nods awkwardly. “Um, yeah. Just friends.”

Mr. Chase raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t push it, and Percy is reminded of his mother’s reaction when she first saw them together.

“I think we might end up staying for dinner, if that’s alright,” Annabeth tells her dad.

He nods quickly. “Of course, dear. I should probably get back to work—writing an article that’s going to be published tomorrow on the rising prices of cauldrons in Diagon Ally versus that cheaper line of shops over in Suffolk…” he continues muttering to himself as he turns away and sits down at his desk again.

Annabeth sighs. “Um, okay. See you tonight, dad.”

Mr. Chase nods absentmindedly, already buried in his work again. “Good to see you, sweetheart.”

Annabeth’s smile is tight. “You, too.”

She closes the door of the study, and Percy takes her hand and squeezes it. Annabeth looks up gratefully, not needing to speak.

“Shall we go outside?” he offers, and Annabeth nods, firming her expression.

“We can go to the stables first, and you can meet my horse,” she says, leading the way.

Percy squawks. “You have a _horse?_ ”

She looks back at him, vaguely amused. “I’ve been mentioning the stables all day. What did you think lived there, gorillas?”

Percy waves his hands. “No, but. I just realized—what if I can talk to horses in my Animagi form?”

Annabeth raises her eyebrows. “That’s an interesting idea. Let’s test it out, shall we?” By now, they’ve reached the front door, and she opens it for him.

They walk outside, chatting quietly as Percy continues to take in the grounds surrounding the house. There are acres of smooth green grass and gardeners working busily as they plant flowers and water shrubbery. Annabeth waves to them cheerily, greeting a few by name, and the answering smiles that brighten their faces at her cheery voice makes something tighten in Percy’s chest. He watches her fondly as she stops to talk to a young girl—probably no older than ten or eleven—who’s tending to some ivy growing along the side of a huge stone fountain. Percy doesn’t even pay attention to the conversation, but he watches Annabeth as she gestures and laughs, and the little girl flushes pink with pleasure at the attention.

“You’re pretty amazing, did you know that?” he blurts when she’s waved goodbye to the girl and they’ve continued down the stone-lined path.

Annabeth looks surprised, but she smiles. “Well, thanks. You’re not too bad yourself,” she teases, and Percy’s heart physically hurts with the force of the blinding smile.

He swallows and doesn’t look at her, running ahead instead. “Come on,” he yells over his shoulder. “Race to the stables?”

“You don’t even know where you’re going, you arse,” Annabeth yells, running after him, and yeah, Percy doesn’t know where he’s going until he turns a corner around a little patch of trees and suddenly he’s facing a large, clear lake, sparkling in the afternoon sun. It’s surrounded by woods, and he never would have been able to find it on purpose.

“Well, you found the lake,” Annabeth says breathlessly as she comes up behind him. “I was planning to take you here later, but. We’re already here.”

He turns to her, grinning. “Want to go for a swim?”

He’d been kidding, but Annabeth’s eyes glint. “Why not,” she decides, pulling off her shirt and leaving her in a blue bra.

Percy’s eyes bulge. “Chase, your parents literally _live_ here!” he hisses, throwing her shirt back at her frantically.

Annabeth laughs, stripping off her shorts to reveal a pair of simple grey underwear. “They never come down here, and the gardeners know that when I’m home, this is my special spot. No one is going to be down here until I leave, maybe later.”

Percy sighs in defeat. “Well, if you’re _sure…_ ” He takes one last glance around and pulls off his shirt, then his shorts, leaving him in a pair of boxers.

Annabeth gestures to the wooden dock that stretches past the edge of the lake. “You ready?”

“Race you,” Percy says again, and takes off.

They sprint to the edge of the dock, breathless with laughter, before diving in. Percy hits the water with a splash and relaxes, letting the chill surround him. He can feel the underwater plants tickling his feet and feels a fish brush against his skin, and then his head breaks the surface and he gulps in air.

Annabeth’s already ahead of him, pulling herself up onto the dock and shaking her wet head like a dog. Percy takes a second to appreciate her tanned curves and the way the water on her skin sparkles in the sun before pulling himself up onto the dock and joining her.

They sit for a second in silence, the sun beating down onto their wet skin, hearing the birds singing in the woods and the summer breeze rustling the trees.

All of a sudden, Annabeth pushes him off the dock and into the water, and he retaliates by dragging her in with him.

“You… arse…” Annabeth gasps, breathless with laughter as she surfaces.

Percy floats on his back innocently, spitting out a stream of water. “You started it,” he protests. “Not my fault what happens next.”

They swim to the edge of the lake, until they’re both about waist deep in water, and Annabeth looks back at him, breathless and laughing.

Percy swallows, looking at the water sparkling on her lip, and she takes a step closer to him and kisses him.

He kisses her back hungrily, letting his hands wander down her bare back and grabbing her ass, fingers trailing along her wet skin, and she tangles her fingers in his hair and exhales against his lips.

He picks her up, still kissing her, and blindly wades through the water toward the edge of the lake, when his foot catches on something and they both go tumbling into the shallow lake.

Annabeth’s gasping with laughter as he helps her up, smothering a smile. “Nice job,” she says, sarcasm and playfulness evident in her tone, but Percy silences her with a kiss.

They lay on the grass making out in the sun, hands wandering and long, lazy kisses pressed to every inch of skin they can find, before a cloud comes over the sun and Annabeth sits up, goosebumps all over her skin.

“It’s getting cold,” she announces. Her lips are swollen and a little bruised, and Percy feels a little smug. He stands up and jogs over to the pile of clothes they had discard earlier, tossing Annabeth her garments and grinning. “I can help with that.”

They get dressed quickly, hair wet and clinging to their skin, but it’s warm enough that once they’re dry, it’s comfortable. Percy dries off his feet with his shirt, first, before putting on his socks and shoes, and Annabeth does the same before they stand up.

“Stables?” Annabeth asks, and Percy takes her hand.

“This time, how about you lead?” he offers, and Annabeth laughs.

“I think that sounds like a plan.”




Dinner with Annabeth’s parents is… _awkward._

They’re not _rude_ , not really. It’s just obvious that neither of them are experienced in talking to teenagers, not even their own daughter.

“So, Annabeth, are you enjoying your holiday at the sea?” Mr. Chase asks after the house elves have brought out the ridiculously large meal. Seriously, Percy can’t believe how much food they’ve made for only four people, but. He’s a teenage boy, and he’s not complaining.

Annabeth nods as she chews and swallows a bite of salad. “It’s been amazing. A few days ago, Percy took me to the movie theatre.”

Mr. Chase chuckles as he cuts his meat. “One of my muggleborn friends took me to a movie theatre one holiday back when I was in school. Of course, I’m sure the movies are much better quality now, but it was definitely a memory I won’t forget.”

Mrs. Chase sniffs a little haughtily. “I find muggle culture rather simplistic, from what I have observed in personal experience.”

Percy opens his mouth to correct her, but Annabeth kicks him under the table and sends him a warning glance, and he decides to just be quiet.

The rest of the meal is a painfully awkward silence, occasionally broken by forks and glasses clinking and someone asking for someone else to pass a plate of food.

It feels like years, but they’ve finally finished the meal, and Percy stands. “Thank you for dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Chase,” he says politely.

Mrs. Chase’s face relaxes into a smile, which is the most expression he’s seen on her all day. “You’re quite welcome, Perseus. Will you two be heading back now?”

Annabeth nods, fidgeting with her shirt. “It—it was good to see you, Mum. Dad,” she adds, nodding in his direction.

“I suppose you’ll write if you’re stopping by again?” Mr. Chase inquires.

Annabeth nods. “That should work.” She glances at Percy and nods toward the living room. Percy catches the hint and picks up her bag.

“Thank you again!” he calls as he and Annabeth grab handfuls of floo powder from the jar on the mantle.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Mr. Chase calls, and then he and Annabeth step into the fireplace and they’re suddenly back at in Percy’s living room, covered in soot.

Once the dust clears, Percy glances over at Annabeth. It’s a little jarring to be back at his home, with the sagging ceilings and musty-smelling wooden floors and the worn furniture, especially after the magnificent, expensive grandeur of the Chase mansion. Annabeth sets her bag down with a sigh and plops onto the creaky sofa.

“Thank you for coming with me today, Percy,” she says, not meeting his eyes. “It was nice, having you there.”

Percy sits next to her, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. “Of course. Anytime, Annabeth,” he says earnestly, and she smiles a little bit.

“Second time you’ve called me _Annabeth,_ ” she says, holding up two fingers.

Percy leans his head on her shoulder affectionately. “Well, I did say I’d save it for special occasions, didn’t I? I feel like this qualifies.”

“What, you surviving meeting my parents?” Annabeth quips. They can both hear the voices of the other Marauders and Sally arguing playfully in the kitchen, boisterous laughter and shouts filtering in dimly.

Percy nods seriously. “It was a difficult experience, princess. I wasn’t sure I’d live to tell the tale.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but nods. “I agree. Let’s celebrate.” Annabeth stands up and spreads her arms. “I’m glad to be home.”

Percy goes quiet at hearing Annabeth call his house _home_ , and in a rush of motion he stands up and hugs her. She stiffens a little at first, surprised, but then relaxes and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him close.

“Yeah,” he says, voice muffled by her hair. “I’m glad to be home, too.”


	16. Chapter 16

“I can’t believe July’s almost over,” Annabeth marvels a few days later. They’re out on the porch, enjoying the warm summer evening; the other Marauders are inside watching a movie, and they can hear Sally cleaning up the kitchen, humming to herself as she does the dinner dishes. They had offered to help, but she’d insisted they take a break and go outside.

Percy hums in agreement, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. The salty breeze caresses his face, and the gentle crash of the waves onto the sandy shore makes for a soothing background noise.

“What was the first time you saw a Quidditch match?” Annabeth asks him suddenly.

Percy opens his eyes reluctantly to look over at her. She’s wearing running shorts and an oversized shirt that’s slipping off her shoulder, her cheeks a little sunburned and her sun-bleached curls up in a messy bun. He stops and considers. “I think it was actually about a month after I came to Hogwarts,” he admits finally. “That first match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. What about you?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Annabeth comments. “One of my earliest memories is my father taking me to a Quidditch match when I was little—probably four or five, at most. I remember it being one of the only times that he actually took me somewhere that didn’t have to do with his job, or Mum’s work, or anything that he _needed_ to do, just—spending time with his daughter.”

Percy nods. “I can see why it stuck out to you.”

Annabeth smiles a little bitterly, playing with the hem of her shirt. “Yeah, well. A few days after that he got his job as the chief editor of the Prophet, and well—that’s been his life ever since.”

Percy doesn’t say anything, and they both sit in silence for a minute before he speaks again. “So what was your first time hearing a muggle song?” he asks, and Annabeth laughs.

“It was in my dorm room, second year. Piper’s a halfblood, as you know, so she had brought—what do you call it, an iPod, I think?—and a little speaker, and one night we spent the entire night dancing to her favorite muggle music. I think that’s when we really became friends, actually. That night of dancing and collapsing into bed at five in the morning and then having to get up at eight for classes.”

“Yeah, that’s really the kind of thing you bond over,” Percy teases, and Annabeth swats at him.

“What was the first time you listened to magical music?” she asks.

Percy considers. “Probably kind of the same as you—back in first year, Jason had a little magical radio that somehow worked despite the technology dampening spells in the dorms, and so one night he sneaked into the Gryffindor dorms and we stayed up until the wee hours of the morning listening to music.”

Annabeth smiles fondly. “Rule-abiding Ravenclaw prefect Jason, breaking the rules and sneaking into the Gryffindor common rooms?”

Percy grins. “You’d be surprised at what a bad influence I can be.”

Annabeth throws her head back, chuckling. “No, actually, I don’t think I’d be surprised.”

They fall into silence again, the dim screeching of seagulls filtering up from the beach and the edges of the sunset beginning to make an appearance.

Percy turns to Annabeth mischievously. “First kiss?”

“How did we get from music to kisses?” Annabeth wonders out loud.

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “How do we get from _anything_ to kisses?”

Annabeth chokes with laughter. “Okay, you arse. Um, my first kiss—you actually met him a few weeks ago, at the club. Luke Castellan, an old friend of my parents. I was twelve, on holiday after my second year of Hogwarts, and he was in London for the summer staying at my house for a few weeks. He was fifteen at the time, and one day we were out at the lake by ourselves when he just—kissed me.” She smiles a little, ducking her head. “I’d had a crush on him for ages, but I’d never thought he’d see me as anything more than a little kid.

“Of course, we never really dated. He lived in France and I didn’t see him much, and there was never really more than jumbled-up feelings, and the age difference was a lot, but. We remained friends, and we still write letters to each other throughout the school year. I see him occasionally when he’s in London.”

Percy feels a completely irrational surge of jealousy, but he manages not to show it. Annabeth and him—they’re just friends, who sometimes sleep with each other without anyone knowing. He has no more right to be jealous over her past romantic conquests any more than she would over his.

“He’s going to Hogwarts this year, right?” he asks, deceptively casual.

Annabeth squints at him a little suspiciously. “Yes, he is. I think I told you, but my mother got his father a job in the London ministry. He’s been going to Beauxbatons, but he’ll be transferring for his seventh year at Hogwarts.”

Percy nods. “But isn’t he like, nineteen now? How is he only in his seventh year?”

“He started school late because his parents used to move around a lot, before they got better jobs and grew relatively wealthy and powerful in the magical world,” Annabeth explains. “I think I also remember hearing that he took some time off last year, though I’m not sure why. I’ll have to ask him once I see him again at Hogwarts.”

Percy nods again reflectively, not saying anything.

“So what about you?” Annabeth asks, breaking the semi-awkward silence. “Who was your first kiss?”

Percy relaxes, laughing as he thinks back to his third year. “Rachel Dare. We were friends when we were little before either of us even knew what magic was, and then we both ended up going to Hogwarts. We didn’t speak to each other much, but one night after the Halloween party, we’d both had a few too many drinks, and she kissed me.”

Annabeth laughs. “Definitely sounds like a Percy Jackson first kiss experience.”

He pretends to scowl at her. “Rude.”

“Didn’t you sleep with her a few times this past year, too?” Annabeth asks lazily. “Before we started our—whatever we have.”

“Eloquent,” Percy drawls.

She flips him off. “You’re such an arse.”

Percy lets his head fall back onto the pillows languidly. “Anyway, back to your question—yes, I slept with her once. I never really sleep with a girl more than that, though. Makes the relationship too serious, or she starts getting clingy or falls in love with me.”

“Wow, Percy Jackson, the heartbreaker,” Annabeth deadpans. “If sleeping with a girl more than once makes the relationship _too serious_ in your book, then what do we have going on?”

“Well, that’s different,” Percy argues. “We’re _friends,_ Chase.”

“Plus, the sex is awesome,” Annabeth adds, grinning.

He aims finger guns at her. “Right on, princess.”

She laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear. “So while we’re on the subject, who did you lose your virginity to?”

Percy considers. “Hmm. I think it was—oh yeah. Callie Atlas, beginning of fourth year.”

“Calypso Atlas? Isn’t that the Ravenclaw girl that Leo had a crush on last year?” Annabeth inquires. “Or maybe he still does, I don’t know.”

Percy grins. “Yeah. She’s pretty cool. We’ve never really hung out, but I’ve been assigned with her for a few projects, and she’s got a good sense of humor.”

“Besides, she’s gorgeous,” Annabeth puts in. “And Leo has a weakness for funny, pretty girls.”

Percy laughs. “True. I used to think she was pretty, but I don’t really anymore. I guess objectively speaking, she’s attractive, but. I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else, princess.”

Annabeth laughs, and there’s a blush tinging her cheeks. “Thanks, Perce,” she says dryly, but there’s a tone in her voice that he can’t quite make out.

“Always,” he teases back. “And okay, who did you _do the do_ with?”

Annabeth wrinkles her nose so all her freckles scrunch up. It’s kind of adorable. “Why do you have to say it like that?” she grumbles. “But fine. Uh, Chris Rodriguez, also fourth year. We were studying together, and we’re friends, and I don’t even remember how we got onto the subject, but. He was a nice guy, and I trusted him, and we were both single at the time, and yeah. Stuff happened.”

“Aren’t he and Clarisse dating now?” Percy asks.

Annabeth smiles and nods. “Yeah, they’re pretty cute. Chris and I have remained friends throughout the years, and he told me before school ended that as soon as he and Clarisse graduate, he’s going to propose.”

“Wait, really?” Percy asks, grinning from ear to ear. “Clarisse isn’t the type of girl I’d assume would be super into wedding planning and stuff, but…”

“If Chris asks her, she will,” Annabeth says firmly. “She’s really sweet, underneath that tough exterior.”

Percy shrugs, leaning back on his chair. “If you say so.”

By now, the sun has really begun setting, even though they’re not facing the sea. “Want to go down to the beach and watch the sunset?” Percy asks, turning to Annabeth.

She stands up and stretches. “Sounds like a plan.”

They walk down to the sandy shore, laughing over nothing and picking up pretty shells and smooth rocks that have been washed ashore. Percy finds a tiny, delicate seashell and sticks it in Annabeth’s hair, and she rolls her eyes and retaliates by spilling sand down his shirt.

They finally tire and plop down on the cool, soft sand to watch the pinnacle of the sunset, the many colors colliding and reflecting over the ocean’s smooth surface. Percy lays down and Annabeth lays between his legs, her head pillowed on his chest, and he kind of never wants to move.

After the sun has finally set, the last golden droplets of light scattered across the horizon, Annabeth gets to her feet. “It’s getting kind of chilly. Do you want to go to the hot tub?”

Percy reluctantly stands up. “I suppose so,” he says. “Do you want to go to the house first to get our swimsuits first, or…?”

Annabeth’s grin is mischievous. “I have another idea.”

Shaking his head, Percy follows her. The little shed where their hot tub is stands a little ways away from the house, and he can see that most of the lights are out, signaling that his friends and his mum have probably gone to bed at this point. So whatever Annabeth has planned hopefully won’t be interrupted.

He quickens his pace, jogging to catch up with her. “So what are we doing, exactly?”

Annabeth wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “You’ll see.”

“I hate it when you say that,” Percy mutters as they reach the shed and Annabeth holds open the door for him.

She closes it behind him with a thud, and they’re left in pitch black darkness. Percy fumbles and hits the wall a few times before finding the light switch, which turns on a flickering lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and illuminating the hot tub.

Annabeth pulls off the plastic cover and flips the switch, turning on the jets as the water begins to bubble and warm up.

“So?” Percy presses impatiently. “What are we doing?”

“Have you ever played truth or dare?” Annabeth asks nonchalantly.

Percy nearly chokes. “Um? That was your idea?”

She raises her eyebrows. “What? Would you rather go back to the house and go to bed?”

Percy grins, slow and a little dirty. “I never said that.” He takes a step closer to her. “So, truth or dare.”

“Dare,” Annabeth says.

He considers. “I dare you to take off an item of clothing.”

Annabeth hums, thinking. She’s only wearing shorts and a t-shirt—there’s not much she can choose to take off, and Percy knows it.

And then, because she’s Annabeth and of _course_ she finds a loophole, she takes off her bra without taking off her shirt, throwing the garment to the rough-hewn wooden floor of the shed.

“I’m pretty sure that’s cheating, princess,” Percy protests, trying to keep his eyes off her chest, because he’s a _gentleman,_ okay.

She grins saucily at him. “Nope. You said an item of clothing, and that’s what I did.”

He sighs, grumbling. “Fine. Okay, your turn.”

She considers, pursing her lips. “Truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to get in the hot tub fully clothed,” she says, a spark of mischief in her eyes.

“My mum’s going to kill me,” Percy gripes, but he reluctantly sticks a toe in the water. “Annabeth, it’s not hot yet!”

She waves his protest away. “Big deal. It’s almost August, I’m pretty sure you’ll survive.”

Percy sighs and jumps in gingerly, his clothes immediately soaked. “Truth or dare, princess.”

“Truth,” Annabeth says saucily, sitting on the edge of the tub and crossing her legs.

“Um… what’s one of your biggest fears?” Percy asks, letting the lukewarm water wash over his body. “Also, can I take my shirt off now?”

“Nope, I might need you to keep it on for the future,” Annabeth says, impish. “And… I really, _really_ hate spiders.”

Percy chuckles softly. “Really? Can’t picture it.”

Annabeth nods. “Trust me, I am. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“What is one thing that would break a relationship for you? Platonic, family, romantic—whatever,” Annabeth explains.

“Probably…” He scrunches his eyebrows, trying to think. “Probably being replaced? Like, I’d hate feeling like someone is taking what I used to be in someone’s life, and putting themselves there instead, kicking me out.”

Annabeth nods. “That makes sense.”

“Truth or dare?” Percy asks.

“Dare.”

Percy grins evilly. “I dare you to go up to the house and go to my mum’s little cabinet behind the oven that she thinks is secret…”

“Oh no,” Annabeth groans.

“…and get us one of her bottles of vodka that she keeps behind all the dishes, and then pour yourself a shot,” Percy finishes.

“You’re such an arse, Percy,” Annabeth complains, but she stands up, her feet dripping water from the hot tub.

Percy waves his hand lazily. “Alright, get a move on. We don’t have all day.”

Annabeth growls but leaves, and Percy laughs. She returns a few minutes later, the bottle of vodka and a few plastic cups in her hands.

“Classy,” Percy drawls.

She flips him off and uncaps the bottle, pouring a little into one of the glasses and throwing it back, wincing a little before turning to him. “Percy, truth or dare.”

Percy glances at the vodka nervously. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. “Um, dare?”

“Take off all your clothes and then get back in the tub,” Annabeth orders.

“What?” Percy yelps. “Come on, princess. That’s not fair.”

She raises an eyebrow a little saucily. “What, you don’t want to? That’s fine. I guess I’ll just go to bed…” she begins to stand up, and Percy holds out his hand to stop her.

“Okay, okay, _fine._ ” He gets out of the tub, his clothes dripping, and peels off his garments before jumping back in, inexplicably self-conscious. There’s a difference between having sex with someone naked and just— _taking your clothes off_ for no reason in front of that person, okay.

Annabeth’s eyes flick up and down his body shamelessly. “Nice.”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Percy points out.

She shrugs. “True, but still. Also, how about if we refuse to answer a question or do a dare, we have to take a shot?”

“Sure. Truth or dare, princess.”

“Truth.”

“Dammit,” Percy mutters. “I had a good dare already planned out.”

“Save it for next time.”

“Fine. Um, do you have any dreams for the future that you’ve never told anyone?”

Her grey eyes flit up as she thinks. “I—okay, Percy. I’ve literally never told _anyone_ this, so please don’t—”

He nods, knowing what she means. “Your secret’s safe with me, princess.”

She purses her lips. “Thanks. Um—I’ve always wanted to be an architect?”

“Oh, like a person who designs buildings?” Percy questions.

She nods, looking a little excited. “Yes, exactly. It’s more of a muggle thing, though—obviously there are architects in the magical world, but not as many, and they’re mostly men. I want to become an architect and redesign a city skyline—I want people to know my name, and know that I was good enough to design those buildings, and how hard I worked to be able to do so.”

Percy’s a little stunned, and he’s quiet for a minute before—“I think you could do it, princess.”

Her voice is trembling, like she’s trying to hide her excitement. “You… you think so?”

Percy raises himself up, looking at her steadily in the eyes. “I know so.”

Annabeth’s cheeks flush with pleasure. “Thanks, Percy.”

He nods, and it’s quiet for a bit before she turns to him again. “So… truth or dare?”

Percy purses his lips. “Truth?”

Annabeth bites her lip, looking a little torn. “Would you—is there anyone in your life you would die for?”

It’s a hard question, and Percy does take a second to think about it, but—the names that he says pop into his head as soon as she’s finished the question, no hesitation, and he thinks that says something about them.

About _him_.

“Um, my mum, obviously, and the other Marauders—they’re basically family now, anyway, I think. They’re my _brothers_ , and if I could save any of their lives by giving my own, I would, no questions asked.”

Annabeth nods, looking thoughtful, and she’s about to say something when Percy adds, “And you.”

“And me, what?”

“And you—I would die for you,” Percy says, a little self-conscious.

Annabeth opens her mouth, but nothing comes out, and Percy hastily tries to explain. “Over the past year, you’ve become something to me that I could never have imagined, Annabeth. You’re like—you’re family, too, and I’m not sure in what way, exactly, but. I love you, and again, if a situation ever arose that I could save your life by giving mine, then I would. No hesitation. And maybe it’s a good thing, maybe it’s not, but—”

“Thank you, Percy,” Annabeth says, and her voice is a little shaky and quiet. “That—that means a lot to me.”

He smiles at her, and tries to ignore how his eyes have misted up. “Always.”

They slip into silence again, each pondering the truths that have been spilled in the past few minutes before Percy asks, his voice still a little choked, “Truth or dare?”

She chuckles quietly before answering. “Dare.”

“Yes!” Percy snaps his fingers, looking triumphant. “I dare you to come in here and kiss me.”

“Classy, Jackson,” Annabeth drawls as she begins to take off her shirt.

“Nope, you can’t take off your clothes.”

Annabeth raises her eyebrows. “Never thought there would be a time when you were telling me _not_ to take off my clothes,” she quips as she gently lowers herself into the steaming, bubbling water and wades towards him.

Percy smirks. “You’ll see, princess. I have a master plan at work here.”

“Oh, do you now?” she asks, dry. “And here I thought you’d never make it as a Slytherin.”

Percy nods seriously as she settles herself on his lap in the water, and he’s suddenly _very_ aware that he’s naked and she’s not, but he tries to ignore it. “Oh trust me, princess. I would be a _fantastic_ Slytherin.”

“Debatable,” Annabeth murmurs, and then she kisses him.

It would be easy to get lost in the kiss and get very sidetracked, very quickly, but Annabeth pulls away sooner than he would have liked, smirking. “Okay, Jackson. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Percy chooses, and instantly regrets it.

“I dare you to go run around the house three times, completely naked.”

“But—but—my mum and the Marauders might still be up! What if someone comes outside and—”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to deal with it, then,” Annabeth says smugly. “Plus, it’s dark out. You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” Percy mutters darkly, climbing out of the steaming hot tub and feeling goosebumps tingle over his bare skin. “You’re fully clothed.”

Annabeth points to the bra, abandoned on the floor of the shed. “Not completely.” She gets out of the tub, and Percy swallows, looking away from how her wet shirt clings to her body.

“Okay, I’m going now,” he says in a whisper, peeking out of the door.

Annabeth presses up behind him, her dripping clothes slick against his wet bare skin, and he can feel her laughing. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

He shoots her a look. “Not helping, Chase.”

She waves him on. “Go!”

He shoots out of the shed and runs to the short distance to the house. The moon is almost full tonight, shedding light over the lawn and the house and reflecting on the ocean. Percy can hear Annabeth trying in vain to stifle her laughter at the sight of him, completely naked, running around the house. He rolls his eyes, and runs faster, hoping his luck will hold until he makes it back to the shed.

It does. No one comes out of the house and no lights flick on in the windows, indicating that everyone is sleeping.

He’s out of breath by the time he jogs back to the shed and closes the door. Annabeth’s still shaking with laughter from where she sits in the hot tub, clothes still on.

“You’re such an arse,” he says darkly as he settles back into the hot tub, and Annabeth just laughs harder.

“I wish I had taken a picture. That was _priceless._ ”

“Butthead,” Percy mutters petulantly.

She grins at him brightly, wiping her eyes. “Alright, your turn.”

“Truth or dare?” Percy asks her.

“Dare,” Annabeth says.

“I dare you to go to the house and get the chocolate syrup from the fridge, pour it on me wherever you want to, and then lick it off,” Percy says, smug.

Annabeth groans. “Really, Percy?”

He shrugs innocently. “What?”

She rolls her eyes, getting out of the tub as her sopping clothes stream water onto the rough wooden floor. “I’ll be right back.”

He waits patiently until she returns with the bottle in hand. “Get out of the tub and lay down on the ground on your back,” she instructs bossily.

Percy obeys, grinning ear-to-ear. Annabeth kneels next to him on the unfinished wood floor, surveying him. “Close your eyes, you’re making me nervous,” she orders.

“Kinky,” Percy teases, closing his eyes.

She smacks him lightly, and he winces. He probably deserved that.

It’s kind of agonizing, waiting with his eyes closed as Annabeth surveys him lying on the ground as she decides where to drizzle the chocolate syrup, and he thinks she takes her time on purpose. But then, all of a sudden, he feels a cold stream on his torso, and he jumps a little bit.

“Did I scare you?” Annabeth asks teasingly, still pouring the syrup.

“Nope,” Percy denies, shaking with laughter. Eyes still closed, he waits—and then feels Annabeth’s tongue on his chest, licking up the chocolate syrup. It’s kind of a weird sensation, but not unpleasant, and he peeks open his eyes to see Annabeth smirking as she licks up the syrup.

“Enjoying this, Chase?”

“Not a chance.” She sits up and wipes her mouth, but there’s some chocolate syrup left on her nose.

He sits up and pulls her close. “You missed some,” he murmurs before kissing her nose gently.

She blushes and rubs it off, pulling away. “Alright, you arse. Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” Percy says immediately as he tiptoes back to the hot tub and jumps in, sitting down on the submerged ledge with a happy sigh of being back in the warm water.

Annabeth sits on the edge of the tub and spreads her hands. “But I had a good truth!”

“Too bad,” he answers saucily.

“Whatever. Um—Percy Jackson,” she begins.

“Annabeth Chase,” Percy mimics, saluting her.

She shoves at him playfully. “Shut up.”

“Rude.”

“Okay, I dare you to…” she casts her gaze around the shed, as though trying to gain an idea from the flickering shadows on the walls. “I dare you to take an item of clothing off me.”

“Oh, now we’re talking, princess,” Percy replies, grinning and rubbing his hands together. “What a _choice._ ”

She blushes. “Get on with it, Jackson.”

Percy finally lets himself fully survey her. Sitting on the edge of the hot tub, her feet dangling in the steamy water, he has a perfect view of the way her wet shirt clings to her body and her nipples pebble under the thin fabric in the cool air. But then—her shorts are also wet, riding up to the tops of her thighs and exposing just a touch of lace from her panties.

Again, what a _choice._

Finally, he stands up and wades toward her. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it _right._ “Close your eyes,” he murmurs huskily when he’s only a few inches from her.

Shivering a little, Annabeth obeys, tilting her chin up expectantly.

Percy leans forward and presses his mouth to her neck, moving with tiny butterfly kisses up her damp skin. He brushes her loose curls back and nibbles on her ear, causing her to gasp softly. Hands moving up her wet shirt and then under it, he caresses her soft skin before sliding his wandering fingers to her breasts, running his thumbs over her nipples even as he sucks on her collarbone.

Annabeth is breathing fast, eyes still closed and head thrown back. Percy smirks, taking a second to appreciate her this way—cares gone and her rational mind completely lost to the effects of his touch.

He moves his hand to her back, squeezing her ass and thumb catching on the waistband of her shorts, before drawing back. He has to keep her guessing about what item of clothing he’s going to take off—honestly, he’s not even sure yet.

Percy lets his teeth graze her jaw softly, and Annabeth lets out a soft, breathy moan. He still hasn’t kissed her on the lips, and he can tell she’s waiting for that—body on edge and fingers gripping the side of the tub with white knuckles.

He finally brushes his mouth over hers—just barely touching, before moving back. Annabeth tries to follow him, but he doesn’t let her, instead beginning to press kisses down the line of her neck, going farther and farther until he reaches the edge of her shirt and just _knows_.

With one swift motion, he pulls the damp, clinging shirt over her head and throws it to the side, uncaring of where it lands. Annabeth surges forward and kisses him messily, and he stands up and picks her up, hands under her ass and her legs wrapping around his waist.

Somehow, he manages to sit down on the ledge as the steamy water envelopes them, even as Annabeth’s teeth catch his lip and he groans a little.

“I think… I’m ready… to be done… with truth or dare,” Annabeth murmurs in between kisses.

Percy chuckles. “I think we’re on the same page, princess.”


	17. Chapter 17

Early one morning about a week later, Percy is rudely awakened by Jason’s _very_ smelly morning breath directly in his face.

“Percy, wake up. _Percy._ ”

Percy swats vaguely in the direction of the annoying voice, his hand coming in contact with what he thinks is a nose. Jason swears, and Percy smiles dreamily into his pillow as he pulls the quilt over his ears.

Unfourtunetly, the bliss doesn’t last long.

“I _said,_ wake up, arsehole,” Jason prods again, sounding slightly nasal.

Percy just grunts non-committedly, not even feeling guilty about hitting his best friend. In fact, he’s considering trying it again before the door slams and he hears Jason’s footsteps retreating down the hall. He smiles to himself again, rolling over and about to fall back asleep when—

“What the _hell—_ ” he yelps, leaping out of bed and shaking his wet head like a dog, trying to get the ice-cold water out of his hair. Then he realizes he’s only in a pair of boxers, and they _might_ have kind of fallen down during the night and—yep, they are exposing most of his junk. Percy darts back into bed and pulls the covers up, only to realize the puddle of ice-water that Jason had poured on him had collected on the quilt and pulling it up to his face is probably not a good idea. Unfortunately, the thought only occurs to him as the frigid liquid splashes all over his face and runs down the bare skin of his neck and chest.

Needless to say, he probably could kill Jason by the time he jumps out of bed for the second time in thirty seconds, careful to adjust his boxers as he still attempts to dry off.

Jason, who had taken a seat at the window to watch the spectacle, smirks at him. “Took you long enough.”

Percy mutters something along the lines of _get you back_ and _revenge_ and _later_ , but he’s still half-asleep and his dark grumbles don’t seem to have the effect he was going for. Jason just looks confused.

He collapses into his desk chair and takes a second to force open his eyes. It’s a losing battle. “What the hell do you _want,_ ” Percy finally says, his first coherent sentence of the day.

What a start to his morning, honestly.

Jason looks pleased with the results of his efforts. “Finally, man. I was shaking you for like, five minutes and you didn’t even open your eyes.”

“Probably because I didn’t want to see your ugly face,” Percy slurs, but as insults go it’s a bit lame and also he’s kind of falling asleep again before he jerks himself awake and hits his head on the back of his chair. Jason just shakes his head.

“I probably don’t want to know what you’re saying, so I’m just going to tell you why I woke you up. Piper’s coming over.”

“And I should care… why, again?” Percy inquires, trying in vain to rub the sleep from his eyes. It doesn’t really work. He should probably go back to bed.

Jason leans forward and slaps him lightly. Yep, Percy could definitely kill him. It probably wouldn’t even take that much effort—just grab the baseball bat from his closet back from when he was in softball as a kid and then—

Oh crap. Jason’s been talking this whole time, and now’s he’s paused, glaring at Percy. “Are you even _listening_ to me?”

“Um. Not really?” Percy says hesitantly. Judging from the look on his friend’s face, that wasn’t the answer Jason was looking for. Oops _._

Wait, no. This asshat just threw cold water on him to get him to wake up. So what if he didn’t listen to Jason’s dumb monologue about his girlfriend coming over.

_You know what? Suck it, Jason._

“…and you’re still not listening to me,” Jason interjects, and Percy jerks his head up, trying to look attentive, but he probably fails miserably based on the look on Jason’s face.

“Sorry, missed the last bit. Go on,” he says, waving his hand impatiently.

Jason looks doubtful.

Percy raises his eyebrows meaningfully.

Jason sighs and continues. “Anyway, what I was _saying_ is that Piper will be spending the weekend. We only have a few weeks left before school starts, and her boss gave her three days off, so she’s finally going to be able to hang out with all of us and I want it all to be perfect,” he finishes, gesturing wildly.

Percy nods vaguely. “Okay, so. What does this have to do with me?”

Jason closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “So you _weren’t_ listening to me earlier.”

“I thought we already established that.”

“You know what—never mind,” Jason says, standing up. “I’m going to let you take a shower and get something to eat, and then I’ll restate everything I just told you. Again. In fact—”

The door opens, interrupting him. Annabeth’s blonde head peeks in, her smile much too awake for this early in the morning. “Good morning, Percy. Oh, hey, Jason. Are you telling Percy about the big news?”

“What big news?” Percy asks. Any remaining desire to sleep has suddenly been squelched by Annabeth’s presence. He thinks he could just stare at her for years and never get tired of looking at her.

Wait, no. That’s creepy. He’s not going to do that.

But the point remains that he _could,_ okay.

He vaguely realizes he’s tuned out again, mesmerized by the way Annabeth smiles, and he holds up a hand to pause her. “Wait—start again, I didn’t hear any of that.”

Jason’s watching him with a weird expression on his face, but that’s not entirely out of the norm, so Percy ignores him.

Annabeth laughs. “Need to go back to bed, Perce?”

“Yes, actually,” he mutters, glancing at Jason resentfully. “But go on.”

“Anyway, it’s Piper’s 17th birthday on Saturday, so we’re inviting some other friends from school for a party to celebrate. Your mum already said we could host it here, and she’s going to a friend’s house in London for the weekend. It’s Thursday now and we set up the floo system already, so we were thinking that the party could be Saturday night.”

Percy nods, finally understanding Jason’s haste. Like, he still doesn’t exactly see why he needed to be woken up so rudely to hear all of this when someone could have just told him in a few hours when he woke up on his own, but he gets why Jason is excited.

“Who all is coming?” he asks.

Annabeth ticks off on her fingers a bunch of people he knows vaguely from school, people who have been in awe of him or the Marauders since he first started coming, but. He isn’t really good friends with any of them, so he just nods and smiles, watching as the morning sunbeams shining through the window and highlighting the freckles on Annabeth’s nose.

“It shouldn’t be a huge party or anything, maybe twenty people at most, but it’s a surprise for Piper. She’s arriving tomorrow morning and spending the weekend, so I was thinking that Jason or I could take her out somewhere Saturday afternoon and early evening so people can get here and you all can decorate,” Annabeth continues.

Percy bobs his head. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Annabeth grins. “Brilliant. Now go get showered, breakfast has been ready for like an hour, and we have a lot of planning to do.” She spins around and flounces out the door, her curls bobbing.

Percy watches her go fondly until he feels a pair of eyes on him and turns to see that Jason’s still looking at him with that same weird expression.

“What?” Percy asks a little irritably as he stands up, groaning as he stretches out his arms and his joints pop.

Jason shakes his head. “I had no idea—”

“No idea of what?”

“That you’re in love with Annabeth.”

Percy’s whole world seems to teeter a little bit, and he grabs onto the chair for support before looking back at Jason. “What—what are you talking about?”

“Mate, it’s all over your face. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before,” Jason repeats, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

“It’s not like—we’re not—I’m not in love with Annabeth,” Percy forces out.

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

A few months ago, Percy could have said yes without thinking twice. Yeah, Annabeth is special to him in more ways than he could ever explain to Jason, but. They’re friends. Incredibly close friends who sleep with each other a lot and know more about each other than most dedicated couples would, but. _Friends._ He loves her, she loves him; he _knows_ that, but it’s completely platonic.

But now—

The room slowly stops spinning, and Percy manages to stand without the help of the chair. Jason actually looks concerned, standing up and grabbing his elbow to steady him. “Perce, you okay?”

_You’re in love with Annabeth._

_You’re in love with Annabeth._

_You’re in love with Annabeth._

_No_ , Percy wants to shout. He wants to say that Jason has just upended his life, put his feelings into words—the laughter, the bickering, the arguments, the memories, the games, the conversations, the _love—_ that he has with Annabeth. He realizes that the feeling—that feeling that has been slowly eating into his life for the past few months, bleeding into everything he does, everything he says—it’s been him, falling in love with Annabeth. Falling in love with the most beautiful girl in the world, the most wonderful person he’s ever had the joy of experiencing, the best person he could ask for—and him _not even knowing._

And suddenly the room is a little tipsy again and Percy leans a little into a still-concerned, still-befuddled Jason for support. Eleven months ago, he had seen Annabeth Chase, the ice princess, on the 9¾ platform as they boarded the train headed to Hogwarts for their fifth year, and he had been baffled when she’d asked how his summer was.

_Eleven months._

That’s all the time it had taken to fall in love with her.

Or maybe—

Maybe it had been less.

Maybe it had been her soft smile on Christmas day when he gave her his gift. Maybe it had been the way she had worked so tirelessly for Grover, for all of them, so they could become Animagi; and then the day they had finished and she wasn’t able to transform and Percy had seen that vulnerable side of her, the side that wouldn’t— _couldn’t—_ let other people down, couldn’t let others see her failures. Maybe it had been her jubilant grin the day they all showed Grover their new animal forms and offered to be his pack, or maybe it had been the way she stood up to Octavian for him and quoted his favorite movie. Maybe it had been her tears the first time she saw the sea, or the hopeful sparkle in her eyes as she described her dreams of being an architect to him.

Or maybe it was just him: Percy Jackson, falling in love with Annabeth Chase in so many countless ways, for so many countless reasons, and not even realizing it until this moment.

Like the roaring of the sea, Jason’s worried voice suddenly filters in through the ringing in his ears, and Percy shakes his head, trying to get rid of the dizziness.

“Percy? What’s the matter? Are you alright? Should I get—”

“I’m fine,” he says, gruff, as he manages to stand on his shaking legs, trying to hide the trembling in his hands. “Sorry, I just—I was just dizzy for a second there.”

Jason still looks worried. “Mate, you were so pale I thought you were going to pass out. Are you sure—”

“I _said,_ I’m fine,” Percy says as he turns away, rougher than he means to, but he sees a glint of understanding in Jason’s eye.

“Whatever you say, Perce. I’m just going to head downstairs and let you get settled.”

Percy says something—what exactly he doesn’t even know, just enough to get Jason out of his room—before collapsing on his bed and letting his head fall into his hands.

He _can’t_ be in love with Annabeth. He _can’t._ It’s—it’s not logical. He and Annabeth were enemies for four years. Sleeping together shouldn’t have _changed_ that.

_But you were friends first,_ a tiny voice whispers in his head, and pictures suddenly flood his mind—Annabeth in the broom closet with him and the other Marauders, cautiously explaining her idea to help Grover. Annabeth in the library, chewing her pencil absentmindedly as they worked on a project together. Annabeth at the Halloween party, falling asleep with her head nestled against his shoulder up on the top of the Astronomy tower.

The last memory he didn’t even know he had until that moment, and the rest of that night floods back to him suddenly, the force of it nearly knocking him over. They had been drunk that night—wasted, really, and somehow even though they were barely even friends at that point, they had spent the evening together, dancing wildly and throwing back shots and exploring the castle.

He remembers taking Annabeth’s shoes off for her, and her leading him to the Astronomy tower. He remembers laughter, and Annabeth’s bright grin, and her voice as she said—

_“For… for such a long time, I thought I hated you, but I don’t. Not anymore.”_

_“Really?” he asked, inexplicably touched. “Why?”_

_She shrugged, looking down at her hands. “I’ve seen how you are. With your friends, the people you really love, and your mum—you love your mum so much, and it’s—it’s sweet. And you’re good with the younger kids, and you’re so, so smart, but you try to hide it because again—that mask you put up.” Annabeth looked up at him. “You’re actually—you’re actually a pretty nice bloke, Percy. Infuriating, sometimes, but. Nice.”_

_Percy laughed a little, and leaned his head down against her hair. She hummed, pleased, and Percy liked the feeling of her head against his cheek—her hair was soft, and pretty, and it smelled like flowers._

_Like home._

_They sat in silence for a while before Percy spoke up. “Hey, princess?”_

_Annabeth hummed, snuggling closer. He could tell she was falling asleep, even through the fuzzy effects of firewhiskey on his brain. “Yes?”_

_“I don’t hate you anymore, either.”_

So yeah. Maybe that was the night it started.

Maybe that was when he first fell in love with Annabeth Chase.




Okay, so. Percy’s seen enough rom-coms to know that even though he now knows he loves—no, he’s _in_ love, there’s a difference—with Annabeth, he can’t actually _do_ anything about it.

He’s not going to avoid her; even if he want to, which he doesn’t, they have over three weeks together in the same house until school starts. It would be impossible.

Plus, he doesn’t _want_ to. Annabeth is one of his best friends, and to think of not being with her causes a twinge of pain in his heart just considering it.

She loves him, he knows that, but not romantically. It’s always been Annabeth enforcing the terms of their relationship: friends, who sleep together occasionally (a lot) but never dating, not even the consideration of it in the future.

To tell her that he’s in love with her would screw up their entire relationship, maybe cause her to hate him or be awkward with him, and he would _hate_ that. They’ve worked too hard to get to where they are for anything to screw it up.

So the obvious solution?

Pretend that nothing’s changed, that everything’s the same as before his revelation.

He considers all of this as he takes a shower, pulls on some board shorts and a sleeveless shirt, and trips down the stairs. Jason gives him a weird look as he enters the living room where all the Marauders and Annabeth are sitting, discussing the plans for Piper’s birthday, but Percy ignores him. He’s going to have to explain to him eventually—sooner rather than later, if he’s honest with himself—but he doesn’t think he can right now. Not yet.

So he pastes a smile on his face and plops onto the couch, although when he makes eye contact with Annabeth and she sends him a little welcoming nod, his smile isn’t quite as forced.

Shit, this is going to be hard.

“You have any ideas, Perce?” Leo drawls, putting his feet in Percy’s lap.

Percy blinks, bringing himself back to the present. “Um. No, not really.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “You weren’t even listening, were you?”

“He’s a little out of it this morning,” Jason supplies, and the others laugh, but Percy squirms under Jason’s steady blue gaze.

Maybe he could pretend the events of the morning never happened if it had been a private realization, a personal understanding of his own wild emotions and thoughts and feelings, but _Jason_ had been the one who set in motion that process. Percy’s brain probably would have taken much longer to figure out the little jump in his heart whenever Annabeth smiled at him, or the warmth that seemed to consume him when he heard her laugh.

But he can’t just act like nothing happened when one of his best friends knows what’s wrong.

“Alright, so the plan is that Piper arrives tomorrow. She’ll stay in my room, and we can all spend the day at the beach, maybe go out for dinner or a party tomorrow night. I’ll take Piper out for dinner on Saturday, maybe go shopping with her beforehand or something, and while we’re out, people will start arriving and you all can decorate. Hopefully we’ll get back at around 6 or 7pm, and that’s when the party can start.”

They all nod agreeably. “When are we getting the decorations?” Percy wants to know.

“Leo and Grover already volunteered to go to town today and get them. Your mom is going to bake the cake today, since she’ll be gone for the weekend, and the alcohol Jason’s going to pick up sometime tomorrow,” Annabeth supplies.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that!” Sally yells from the kitchen, and they all laugh.

“You’re the best, mum,” Percy calls back, grinning.

His friends shout confirmation until Sally comes into the living room and makes them all be quiet, cheeks flushed with amusement. “Also, Percy, honey. I’m going to my sister’s house for the weekend, I don’t know if Annabeth told you—”

“Oh, Aunt Rebekah?” Percy asks, perking up. “Tell her I said hello.”

Sally smiles gently as she turns to go back into the kitchen. “I will. Anyway, I was going to say for all of you to make sure you keep the house relatively clean, alright? I’ll be home on Monday and I’d rather not come back to a disaster zone.”

Percy waves off her concerns. “That’s over 24 hours to clean up after the party, we should be able to handle that,” he teases.

Sally rolls her eyes fondly. “With you lot I never know.”

Percy grins at her retreating back and turns back to his friends. “So, shall we start getting ready?” he asks, and Leo shoots mini finger guns at him.

“Let’s get moving.”




“Annabeth!” Piper squeals, running into the arms of her best friend. The two girls embrace each other, laughing and shouting as Percy and Jason look on fondly. It’s only been a few weeks since they last saw each other, but it’s cute to see how close Annabeth is with her closest friend.

“This is such a cute house,” Piper gushes, looking around. She’d gotten the weekend off and flooed to the Jackson residence, and she glances around the little living room with obvious admiration.

Percy flushes, dragging his toe on the uneven wooden floorboards. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

Sally comes in from the kitchen, smiling brightly. “Hello, you must be Piper,” she greets her, holding out a flour-covered hand. “I’m Sally.”

Piper beams, foregoing the handshake for a hug. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Sally. Annabeth’s told me so many wonderful things about you.”

“Oh, she has?” Sally glances fondly towards Annabeth.

Annabeth smiles. “She’s basically a second mother at this point, how could I not?”

Sally’s cheeks are flushed with pleasure. “Thank you, darling. I assure you, the feeling is mutual.”

They share a glance, and Percy suddenly feels a little out of place, but also all the better for having observed the tender moment between Annabeth and his mother.

“Well, if you ever got married, at least you know your mother would approve,” Jason whispers in Percy’s ear as Piper, Annabeth, and Sally begin talking.

Percy swats at him, feeling uncomfortable. “We’re not getting married, Jason.”

“You’re totally in love with her,” Jason says smugly. “I called it yesterday, and you know it.”

Percy grabs his friend’s arm and drags him upstairs, leaving the girls in the living room to catch up. “Jason, about that—”

Jason’s expression clouds as Percy leads him to his room and closes the door. “What? Percy, if you like her that much, you should tell her!”

Percy sighs, turning around. “It’s—it’s not that simple, Jase. She’s one of my best friends, and I know for a fact she doesn’t feel the same way, okay. We’re just friends, and I won’t—I _can’t_ mess that up.”

Jason nods sympathetically. “I get that, Percy. I do. But how do you know she doesn’t like you back? It’s not like you’ve slept together or anything—” Jason laughs at his own joke, and Percy stiffens, which thankfully his friend doesn’t notice.

“I just know, Jason. And I’m asking you, as my best friend, to just—not press the issue, or even mention this again. Ever.”

Jason presses his lips together, defining the little white scar on corner of his mouth. “I won’t, Percy, but that doesn’t change the fact that I think you guys should at least _try._ ”

Percy shakes his head, opening the door. “That can’t happen, Jason. It just can’t.”

Jason claps his shoulder. “Whatever you say, buddy.”

Percy glances over his shoulder and offers his friend a sad smile. “Thanks, Jason.”

He nods, firming his expression. “Anytime. Now, should we go downstairs and break up the party? Your mum has to leave soon if she’s going to make it to the airport on time for her flight.”

Percy laughs. “Yeah, we should probably go.” They pound down the stairs to find the women still talking.

“So, Piper’s in your bedroom, right, Mrs. Jackson?” Jason asks.

Sally looks confused for a minute before a slow grin spreads across her face. “Oh, yes. And I just changed the sheets and bedspread, so everything’s nice and clean. I’d appreciate if you two kept it that way as much as possible, yeah?”

Piper and Jason’s cheeks flush to the same shade of crimson as Percy and Annabeth smother their laughter. “Yes, ma’am,” Piper squeaks.

Sally raises her eyebrows. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She ruffles Jason’s hair as he passes her, carrying Piper’s suitcase to her room, before she turns to Percy. “I love you, Perce. Be responsible while I’m gone, please?”

“Of course, mum,” Percy says, grinning.

“I’ll keep an eye on him, don’t worry,” Annabeth promises, taking his arm.

Sally laughs. “I’ll hold you to that promise, love.” She gives Annabeth a hug and kisses Percy on the forehead before heading down the hall. “I’ll see you both in a few days!”

“Bye,” they chorus as the door clicks behind her.

“It’s going to be strange without her here,” Percy observes. “I don’t think she’s ever left for more than a day or two while I’ve been home.”

Annabeth leans her head on his shoulder. “Four days isn’t really that much, mama’s boy,” she teases softly. “Besides, you’ll be having too much fun to even realize she’s gone.”

Percy smiles, gaze falling to the floor. “You’re right.” He takes her hand and squeezes it before quickly dropping it. Annabeth looks puzzled, but doesn’t say anything. “Now, you ready to get started on the plan?”

She smiles sunnily. “Let’s go fill Piper in.”




They all head to the beach with Piper. The girls have changed into bikinis, and Percy laughs at the way Jason swallows when Piper comes downstairs, her choppy hair up in a bun and tendrils trailing along her bare brown shoulders, her white bikini contrasting against her smooth skin.

He probably doesn’t look all that much better though when Annabeth follows, her sun-bleached tendrils falling in messy curls to her waist, the light blue bikini she’s wearing bringing out the blue specks in her grey eyes.

It’s kind of a lot, especially after he just figured out he’s in love with this beautiful creature. It was hard enough before, okay. Now—

But he swallows, and pretends it’s fine when she brushes up against him, her lithe body shaking with laughter at Jason’s choked voice when Piper teases him.

Grover and Leo race for the beach, kicking up sand, and Percy and Annabeth follow, Jason and Piper trailing behind. They all spend most of the day in easy conversation, laying on towels on the beach, playing in the water, and building sandcastles. Piper and Jason go for a long walk down the beach, and when they come back a few hours later Piper’s let her hair down. When the breeze ruffles the choppy brown tendrils, Percy catches a glance at a few hickeys on her neck.

“Piece of advice—don’t do it in the sand. Not a good idea,” he mutters to Jason.

Jason grins. “We didn’t. I brought her to that abandoned house that no one ever goes to, and I left some blankets and stuff there last night.”

Percy rolls his eyes. “TMI, Jase.”

“You asked,” he replies smugly.

Percy groans and heads to wear Annabeth’s napping the sun. His board shorts are still wet, and she squeals as he flops onto her.

“Get off me, you oaf,” she protests sleepily. “You’re all wet!”

Percy wiggles his eyebrows, though she can’t see him. “I bet I could get you wetter,” he murmurs.

Annabeth bursts into laughter, rolling out from underneath him. “That was awful, Perce. Alright, I’m ready to get in the water again. Hey Pipes, you want to have chicken fight? You and Jase against me and Percy?”

The four of them race for the water, and the rest of the afternoon passes in what seems like minutes. Finally, Percy glances at how the sun’s beginning to creep toward the western horizon, and he waves all his friends over. “We should probably head back now and clean up and get dressed up and all that.”

Piper furrows her eyebrows. “Dressed up? For what?”

Jason grins at her. “We’re going out for dinner. An early birthday celebration, I suppose.”

“Oh, Jase!” Piper squeals, throwing his arms around his neck. She turns to Annabeth, squinting. “You probably had something to do with this too, didn’t you?”

Annabeth nods bashfully, and Piper grins, hugging her tightly. “You guys are the best.”

“I hate to break up the moment, but let’s get moving. I’m hungry,” Leo interjects, and they all laugh, beginning to pack up the towels and toys and heading to the house.

Dinner goes splendidly, the six of them laughing over memories from Hogwarts and exchanging stories about the summer. It’s pleasant, Percy finds; he and Piper have never been the closest in this friend group, but she’s sarcastic and quick and laughs easily, and Percy can see why Jason loves her.

He doesn’t know if they’ve told each other that, if they’ve spoken those sacred words aloud, but it’s obvious; the way Piper cuddles into his side and it looks like she might never want to leave him again, the way Jason gazes at her adoringly when she laughs so hard she snorts water out of her nose. Whether they’ve said it or not, they love each other—no, they’re _in love_ with each other—and suddenly that distinction has become so important to him.

There’s a difference, you know. Between loving someone, and being in love with them. Percy loves his friends, the other Marauders, like brothers; he loves his mom, and he thinks that in time he could love Piper. But being _in love—_

He doesn’t know quite how to explain it, and maybe that’s okay, for now.

The night ends with them walking back to the house from town, their feet crunching over the long gravel driveway and voices almost reverent in the relative quiet of the summer night. They’re all a little tipsy from the champagne at dinner, and Annabeth takes his hand on the walk back, almost absentmindedly. Sighing, she nudges her head against his shoulder in a gesture of affection. Percy squeezes her hand and pretends it doesn’t matter, pretends that nothing has changed.

This is going to be so much harder than he thought.

When they get back to the house, Jason announces, “I’m sleeping in Piper’s bedroom tonight and we’re locking the door, so don’t come downstairs unless absolutely necessary.”

Percy points at him. “Remember, keep the sheets clean!”

The couple heads to Sally’s bedroom down the hall, laughing good-naturedly as the rest of them catcall and whoop as they tromp up the stairs. After Grover and Leo retire to their room, Annabeth turns to Percy with a spark in her eye. “Want to spend the night in my room, too?”

Percy swallows as she steps closer, the dim light from stairs casting shadows on her face. “Um. I think—we should probably get a good night’s sleep, and it’s late, and we’re both tipsy—”

“We’ve been tipsy before when we’re together,” Annabeth pouts, her finger tracing over his jawline, and Percy shudders, knowing his self-control isn’t going to hold much longer.

“I’m really tired, ‘beth,” he says gently, brushing her hair back from her face. “We both have a long day tomorrow. We should get some sleep.”

Annabeth sighs dramatically, pretending to be hugely disappointed, but Percy catches a glimpse of legitimate frustration in her eyes. “Oh well, if you’re sure,” she says, turning away.

Percy grabs her hand. “Goodnight, princess.”

She sends him a little smile. “Night, Percy.”

He watches her go to her room, wishing more than anything that he could follow, but. He knows he’s not in the place for that right now. It’s too soon, too fast, even if she doesn’t know, and he doesn’t think he’d be able to sleep with the girl he’s in love with right now without spilling how he feels.

Plus, what little filter he has tends to get even lower when he’s tipsy, so yeah. That might be a problem.

Percy heads to his own room, the image of Annabeth’s little smile in his mind until he falls asleep.


	18. Chapter 18

“Alright, Piper and Annabeth just left, so we have exactly…” Leo glances at his watch, furrowing his scruffy eyebrows. “3 hours and 27 minutes until they get back.”

“That’s a bit exact,” Jason says mildly. “What if they decide to stay out longer?”

Leo aims finger guns at him. “Annabeth promised us exactly three and a half hours. She’s Annabeth, she’ll keep to the schedule.”

“But she has Piper with her, who doesn’t know the meaning of the words _on time,_ ” Percy puts in, dry. “They might be a tad longer than what Annabeth planned.”

“Fine,” Leo sighs. “Let me restart. Piper and Annabeth just left, so we have a _minimum_ of exactly…” he checks his watch again. Percy stifles a laugh. “3 hours and 26 minutes. Alright, go go go, people!”

They all rush around like madmen, cleaning up the house, setting up the decorations Grover and Leo had gotten that morning and carefully hidden in the shed, and setting out the mountains of food that Sally had left them for the party, despite their protests that they could do it themselves. They drag the furniture of the living room and the sitting room to the sides of the room, and open the big French doors that Sally normally keeps closed, which opens up the main floor into almost one huge room. Leo brings Sally’s good china and breakable decorations upstairs to prevent any accidents, and Percy makes sure they have a fire extinguisher handy.

You know. Just in case.

About an hour in, guests start arriving, a loud _pop_ from the fireplace announcing someone’s arrival every few minutes. Percy greets old friends and acquaintances from Hogwarts, ducks away from the awkward glares of old hook-ups, and laughs when the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team shows up in succession.

“You guys plan this or something?” he asks, amused.

“Nah,” Clarisse waves him off, “we just heard there’d be free booze.”

“There is a lot of that,” Percy admits, glancing at the makeshift bar table. Somehow Leo and Jason had scrounged up an admirable amount of alcohol, both muggle and magical variety, and people have already begun drinking despite that fact that it’s only 7pm.

Jason holds up his phone for the ever-growing crowd to see. “Annabeth just texted. They’re on their way and should be here in about twenty minutes!”

The crowd cheers. People are already tipsy, and Percy’s actually considering putting someone on bar duty to cut people off before anyone starts getting rowdy, but Leo leaps up on a chair and begins talking, somehow getting the attention of the large group of teens.

“Alright, everyone! Alcohol table is off-limits until after cake, and then you can drink to your heart’s content. Grover, make sure nobody sneaks anything, you have my permission to jinx anyone who tries to get past you. Okay, so the plan is that Annabeth will text when they’re about two minutes from the house. When she does, we’ll all hide, but there won’t be much time to get into position, so pick your hiding spots now! Annabeth’s going to open the door and come in first, and the lights will be off, so it’ll be pretty dark. She’ll hide with us, and then Piper’s going to come in. I’m going to be right here behind the door, so get in a place you can see me, because I’ll be counting down with my fingers from three, and when I give the signal everyone’s going to jump out and yell surprise. Got it?”

Surprisingly, everyone gets it. People begin darting around finding hiding places and explaining what’s going on to newcomers, who keep popping in through the fireplace. Percy hopes that they’re nearing the end of it—it wouldn’t be great if someone flooed in right as they all surprised Piper.

Leo slides over to Percy. “You got the goods?” he asks in a low voice.

Percy nods, grinning. “Yep. I’ll set them off right as she comes in.”

Time flies, and soon Jason receives the awaited text from Annabeth and shouts instructions for everyone to hide. Leo hits the lights, and the house is filled with muffled giggles and shrieks as teenagers shuffle around in the dark, stepping on each other’s toes as people pile behind furniture, walls, and doors.

Percy frantically hisses for everyone to _shut up_ right as the front door opens down the hall. The evening rays of sunshine filter in through the door, and he can hear Annabeth’s muffled voice and the quick clicking of her heels on the floor.

She ends up right next to him, standing against the wall and her body pressed close against him. “How’d it go?” she murmurs.

Percy laughs under his breath. “Surprisingly well,” he whispers back. “Dinner and shopping was good?”

He can feel her nod. “She loved it, and she has no idea.”

Percy chuckles, anticipating Piper’s reaction. He can hear her coming in the door, down the hall, and sees Leo begin counting down out of the corner of his eye.

“Hello? Annabeth, where’d you go?”

_Three._

“Guys? Why are all the lights off? What the…”

_Two._

“Annabeth, I swear, what the hell is happening here…”

_One._

“SURPISE!” The room erupts into cheers, and Percy flicks his wand, which he’s _technically_ not supposed to use since he’s a minor, but there are enough people over seventeen at the party that the ministry will overlook some magic.

The lights flick on, revealing Piper, standing perfectly still in shock. Percy makes eye contact with Leo, and together they murmur a spell under their breaths. Suddenly, there’s a huge structure of candles in the middle of the room, spelling _Happy Birthday, Piper!_ It sparkles and twirls before exploding in a huge sparkle of tiny fireworks. The room erupts in cheers again, people shouting and laughing.

Jason reaches Piper first. “Happy birthday, babe,” he says quietly.

Piper’s eyes are wide and wet. “You did all this for me?”

Jason grins, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Of course. It’s your seventeenth birthday, Pipes, it needed to be good.”

Piper sobs a little, surveying the huge crowd as people begin dancing to the music playing from the speakers Leo rigged earlier, kids dividing into groups to talk and eat. “This is… incredible,” she says finally. “I don’t know what to say.”

Annabeth shrugs. “Don’t say anything, then.”

Piper points a finger accusatorily in her direction. “You! You knew all along, and you didn’t even _tell_ me.”

Annabeth grins. “Guilty as charged.” She begins laughing. “You should have seen your face!”

Piper laughs, leaning into Jason as Leo and Grover come up to join their little group. “You guys are amazing. Thank you all so much.”

“No problem,” they chorus. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” she says, bashful.

“Now,” says Annabeth, taking charge. “Let’s go upstairs and get into some party clothes.”

Piper, laughing, allows herself to be dragged downstairs, and Percy busies himself with warding off overeager teenagers from the alcohol table. Leo and Grover bring out more food from the kitchen, adding to their already overflowing snack table, and that seems to pacify the crowd for now.

He waits impatiently for the girls to get back down, and Jason’s right next to him, tapping his foot.

Finally, they come down the stairs, and the boys’ jaws drop in unison, as well as much of the male crowd.

Piper’s in a metallic silver mini dress, stiletto heels on her feet and her hair up in a messy bun. She’s wearing dark eyeshadow and bright red lipstick, and her cheeks are dimpled with her bright smile at Jason’s face.

But Percy’s gaze sweeps over her to Annabeth.

She had been wearing simple jean shorts and a t-shirt before, and Percy had thought she looked amazing because she’s _Annabeth,_ she always looks amazing. But now, she’s wearing a form-fitting peach dress that comes to her thighs, her long hair is down, and her lithe brown legs look ridiculously long in the heels she’s wearing.

In short, she looks even more stunning than usual, which is saying something. Percy thinks he might faint.

She saunters over to him, the light peach of her dress contrasting brightly against her deeply tanned skin and almost white-blond of her sunbleached curls. “That went pretty well,” she observes, watching as the large crowd chats and eat, a pleasant hum of excited voices in the hair.

Percy glances to where Piper’s kissing Jason, at his best friend’s smile as he gazes at his girlfriend, and swallows, looking away. “Yeah. Yeah, it did.”

Annabeth’s brow furrows. “Percy? What’s wrong?”

There are so many things he wants to say, so many things he wants to _tell_ her—but he sees the happiness in her eyes, the excitement and adrenaline of the party, and he can’t bear to tell her now. He would ruin everything they have together, and he can’t even _imagine_ what he’d do without her.

And then he looks down, and sees her cleavage, artfully highlighted by the smooth fabric of her dress that fits her body like a glove.

He knows, he _knows_ this is a bad idea.

_Not right now,_ his brain screams at him, _it’s too soon—_

But there’s firewhiskey in his blood and a pounding in his heart, and he looks into her eyes and he is _weak_.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Percy assures her, then moves closer to her, letting his mouth brush her ear, and she shudders against him just slightly. “But I do want to rip that dress off of you and fuck you as soon as I possibly can,” he murmurs, voice rough and low against her neck.

Annabeth trembles. “I suppose,” she begins, trying hard to steady her voice. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”

“Cool,” Percy replies, leaning back like nothing happened, and offers her his arm. “Shall we go get the cake?”

Annabeth glares, and he stifles a laugh, but she takes his arm.

Together, they light the candles on the enormous cake. Sally really outdid herself—it’s literally over a foot tall, with chocolate frosting meticulously swirled over the layers. Annabeth shrieks when Percy smears a little on her cheek, and she retaliates by swiping some across his nose and mouth.

But then she licks it off for him, slow and sure, and they make out against the counter before leaping back, realizing that their friends—or worse, a random person from Hogwarts who would spread the rumor around within minutes—could walk into the kitchen at any moment.

“Later,” Annabeth assures him, and Percy takes it as a promise.

They walk into the room with the cake held carefully between them, singing _happy birthday,_ and the entire room joins in until a mighty, slightly off-key chorus is rattling the windows as they make their way to Piper, who’s standing next to the other Marauders and some of her other friends from Hogwarts in a corner.

She blows out all the candles with one try, her laughter bright and infectious. The packed room erupts in cheers, and then someone shouts “So can we have booze now?”

“Go ahead,” Percy yells, and Grover turns up the music to some rock song with a heavy underlying beat. By now it’s almost dark, and someone dims the lights. Leo hits a switch, and suddenly there’s flashing disco lights dancing over the room as people really start to dance.

Percy grabs a slice of cake, because okay, he’s not planning on missing his mom’s chocolate cake, and heads over to Annabeth. She steals a bite, and together they share the plate as they watch people dance. It turns dirty fast, because you have over fifty teenagers in a huge dark house with music and alcohol and of _course_ it turns dirty quickly. People are grinding against each other on the dance floor and making out against the walls, and Percy catches sight of Jason and the birthday girl disappearing upstairs. He knows a few other couples are already up there, and he sighs.

“Remind me to wash all the sheets before Sally gets home, or we’re all going to get STDs,” Annabeth leans over and murmurs, apparently having had the same thought.

Percy nods in agreement. “You want some firewhiskey?” he offers, leading her to the alcohol table.

Annabeth nods. “Let’s get this party started,” she says with a wink, and Percy loves her.

They have to fight through a tipsy crowd to get to it, but eventually Percy hands her a shot, and they down a few together before Annabeth grabs his hand and drags him to the dance floor.

Dancing together brings back a flood of memories—dancing at the Halloween party, close to a year before; dancing at the club at the beginning of the summer. It’s bittersweet, because it’s nearly the end of summer, and soon they’ll be going back to Hogwarts for their sixth year. He’s excited, obviously, because he _loves_ Hogwarts, and obviously it’s not like he’ll be separated from Annabeth or his friends, but. This summer has been pretty magical (no pun intended), and he’ll be a little sad to bid it farewell.

Annabeth tugs on his arms, and her eyes are shiny. She’s a little tipsy, Percy can tell, and so is he. “You want to go outside?” she yells over the music and the shouting, and Percy nods.

“Let’s go.”

They file out of the house pounding with the music and strobing lights and the beat of people dancing and shouting into the warm air of the late summer evening. The crickets are loud and peaceful, the crash of the waves in the distance calming, and Percy faces Annabeth with a grin on his face.

“She loved it,” Annabeth says, following him out to the shed.

“I know,” Percy says, opening the door for her.

“Seriously, Percy,” Annabeth insists. “I know you guys didn’t used to get along too well—”

“Because of you,” Percy interjects, laughing a little.

“Yeah. But still. I’m really glad to see you guys are starting to become friends.”

“It’s funny,” he contemplates. “Piper and I weren’t ever friends before because of our—you and me—our rivalry, I guess. And not that it’s gone, we’re all starting to become one big friend group—almost like one big family, you know?”

“Yeah. It’s nice,” Annabeth says, smiling softly.

Percy reaches up and grabs a ladder from the ceiling of the shed.

“I never knew that was there!” Annabeth exclaims, skirting around the covered hot tub to get to the ladder.

Percy grins, stepping up the rungs and opening the camouflaged trap door in the ceiling, revealing the dusky sky. “The other Marauders and I built this a couple summers ago. We discovered that you can’t see the top of the shed roof from the ground, so we made a way to get up there and then would hide up there sometimes.”

Annabeth grins, putting her hands on her hips. “Let me guess. You put some blankets up there earlier.”

Percy shrugs. “What can I say? Always good to be prepared.”

Annabeth chokes on her laughter, shaking her head as she pokes her head through the trap door and surveys the flat roof. There’s a little wall around the edge, so they don’t have to worry about falling off, and Percy’s brought up blankets.

“We can see the sunset from here,” Percy explains.

Annabeth raises her eyebrows mischievously. “And other people can’t see us from the ground, right?”

Percy grins. “You better believe it.”

He pushes down a nagging feeling in his stomach as he leans over to kiss her. She responds immediately, rolling over on top of him and kissing him, and it feels so good and perfect and _right_ but there’s that pit in his stomach that tells him the truth.

Percy _knows_ that he shouldn’t be doing this. Not with his heart and mind still battling to try to figure out his newly-discovered feelings, not with his head in knots and his heart begging for Annabeth to be in love with him, but. Annabeth’s here, and she’s kissing him, and he forces the conflicting voices form his mind and focuses himself wholly on her.

He might regret it later, but for now he wants to make the most of the time he has with her.

And for now, it’s enough.

They make out for a while before leaning against the little wall and watching the sun set over the ocean. It’s quiet until Annabeth remarks, “I can’t believe it’s almost the end of summer.”

“I know,” Percy admits. “Only a few more weeks and then it’s over.”

“Back to Hogwarts,” Annabeth sighs, snuggling closer to him.

“Are you looking forward to it?”

She considers. “I—I guess, kind of. I love my classes, and there are friends I haven’t seen all summer that I’m looking forward to seeing again. I love living in the dorms, and being—”

“The celebrity?” Percy teases.

She flushes. “A little bit, yeah. I mean, it feels weird to say, but I like it—having that reputation, going into a room and seeing people gasp and point.”

“Don’t you even get tired of it?” Percy wonders. “Having every single one of your moves watched and memorized and analyzed? You and your family are reported constantly in the Magical world. Is it ever hard?”

“Sometimes, yeah,” she admits. “But it happens whether or not I like it, so I’ve learned to use the power it gives me. But the thing is that, on a smaller scale, it’s the same for you—at least at Hogwarts. You and the Marauders are infamous throughout the entire school. How do you deal with that—having your reputation precede you everywhere you go?”

Percy shrugs a little carelessly. “I think it was mostly—when we first got to Hogwarts and I became friends with the other Marauders, it was like—I was invisible. People knew Jason because of Thalia and his parents, Leo was always drawing attention to himself with stupid pranks and jokes, even Grover made a name for himself as one of the smartest kids in our year, and I was just—there, you know?”

She nods, quiet.

“I was the muggleborn who wasn’t particularly good at anything, who didn’t have any connections, any friends besides the other Marauders and a couple guys from my dorm. And because of the stories my mom had told me, growing up I had always pictured Hogwarts as some sort of— _arrival,_ I guess. Like coming home. But it was new and big and scary and people didn’t really care about me, and I wanted to change that.”

“So that’s how—I don’t know. The pranks and everything started? Just for attention?”

Percy laughs. “Yeah, at the beginning. It was for fun and attention, and as we started gaining a reputation, it felt good when people walked by and I could hear them— _it’s those guys, the one behind that brilliant prank the other day—_ or whatever they would say, and I loved it, because suddenly I wasn’t invisible.

“I still remember the first time anyone called us the Marauders. I think I had mentioned it to the guys in my dorm before—I have to go meet with the Marauders, or whatever, and they figured out who I was talking about. Time went on, and I guess they mentioned it to someone else, and then a group of girls were passing us in the halls one day and we heard them giggling and pointing, and one of them said ‘You’re the Marauders, right?’”

Annabeth shakes her head, chuckling. “I bet you four loved that.”

Percy grins. “As tiny first-years with gap teeth and shaggy hair and not much popularity at the time? Yes, we adored it. And it happened more and more, and then we all started getting reputations as the pranks go bigger and bigger. And then Jason and I tried out for Quidditch, and made the team, and people knew us from that, and we made friends with the Quidditch team. Leo and Grover started making other friends on their own, and suddenly it was like one day—I think it was second year, maybe?—it was like everyone in the castle knew who we were.”

“And it’s never changed,” Annabeth muses, smiling.

“Plus I had my rivalry with you,” Percy adds. “I’m sure that added a lot. Anyone with a brain knew who you were, and there was this kid always fighting with you—I’m sure a lot of people eventually put two-and-two together.”

“Would you give it up?” Annabeth wonders. “The reputation, the Marauders, even Quidditch—all that for a normal time, I guess. As just a normal student with a few friends, and the whole school doesn’t know your name.”

Percy shakes his head firmly. “Never.”

She leans her head against his shoulder as the last brilliant sunbeams cast their light over the ocean. “Me neither.”

“And we’re going back in a few weeks,” Percy reminds her.

She grins up at him, the sunset highlighting the gold-white of her hair and the specks of blue in her grey eyes, the smile on her lips, and Percy loves her. “I guess we’ll see what sixth year has in store for us.”

“Fifth year was one hell of a ride,” Percy admits. “I guess we’ll see what happens this year.”

Annabeth speaks so quiet that he can barely hear her over the distant crashing of the waves. “As long as I’m with you, I’m looking forward to it.”

Percy’s heart tightens, and he leans his head against hers.

_Onto sixth year._


	19. Chapter 19

He first sees her on the Hogwarts platform, surrounded by friends and awing spectators alike. She’s in a simple blue tank top and cut-off denim shorts that contrast brightly against her deeply tanned skin and nearly white hair, and it’s the latter that catches his eye.

“You cut your hair.”

“Hello to you, too,” she grumps, pushing through the crowd to give him a hug.

“Hello,” he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a hasty kiss to her forehead before—“You cut your hair.”

Annabeth laughs, pulling back. “I think that would have been obvious.”

Percy blinks. “Yeah, but. It’s _weird._ ”

“Um.” She brushes a curl behind her ear, a little self-conscious. “Okay?”

“No, I mean, not in a bad way.” He gestures wildly, vaguely aware that he’s just digging himself in deeper. “Like, in a weird way. Because I’m not used to it, and your hair was so long, and—”

“You should probably just stop,” Annabeth tells him, amused.

Percy rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, shutting up now.”

She flips her shoulder-length hair, shaking her head a little and causing the curls to bounce. “But really. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Percy says honestly. “I mean, you looked incredible before, too, but—it suits you.”

“New year, new hair,” Annabeth says, grinning. “Plus it was so damaged from a summer of saltwater and sun every day, and it had gotten so ridiculously long—I needed to cut it.”

“Yeah,” Percy says, softer now, and reaches out to touch the ends. “It suits you.”

“You said that already,” she breathes, teasing.

“Annabeth!” yells Leo, Grover right behind him, and they tackle her with hugs. Percy steps back awkwardly, the moment broken.

“You make it seem like you haven’t seen me in months, instead of a few days,” Annabeth teases, kissing Leo on the cheek and ruffling Grover’s hair.

“It was a week, actually,” Jason corrects, giving her a quick hug of his own. “The house just wasn’t the same without you.”

Annabeth laughs delightedly, listening to Leo recount the mischief he and Grover had gotten into in the few days she had spent at her parents’ house before they all returned to Hogwarts, and Percy watched them, smiling. Annabeth and his friends have become like family—Jason is definitely the older brother of the group, always watching out for everyone and being overprotective of Annabeth, like he would for a younger sister—and Leo and Grover are obviously the younger brothers, mischievous and sweet and always vying for Annabeth’s attention.

So where does that leave him, Percy wonders.

Hopefully not anywhere _near_ a brother figure, because. That would be weird.

Despite the week he had spent apart from her, Percy’s feelings haven’t diminished. In fact, they’ve probably just worsened. And now, on the 9 ¾ platform with hundreds of students bustling around and saying farewell to their families and hello to their friends, all he sees is Annabeth.

That is—Annabeth, and the crowd of eager fans and magical paparazzi surrounding her.

Damn, he always forgets how much a celebrity she is.

“Miss Chase! What can you tell us about your summer?”

“Annabeth! Who are your friends, can you introduce us?”

“What do you think about your mother’s latest anti-werewolf law, Miss Chase?”

The camera flashes are blinding, and Annabeth looks disoriented, confused, so unlike her normal confident demeanor.

“Come here,” Percy murmurs, grabbing her arm and pushing roughly through the crowd to get to the train. “Grover, Leo—get her luggage. Jase, you got her owl?”

“Right here,” Jason confirms.

Percy keeps shoving through the crowd of chattering students, trying to get away from the paparazzi, who are still following them and shouting questions, cameras flashing. Finally, they make it onto the train and Percy pulls Annabeth into one of the far cars, away from the platform.

Annabeth collapses on the bench next to him. “Thank you, Perce. Ugh. That was—that was definitely worse than normal.”

“Is that really what it’s like for you in the magical world?” Percy asks, a little bit in awe.

Annabeth sighs, leaning against his chest. Percy wraps his arms around her, holding her close. “It’s not—it’s not normally that bad. My mother just passed another—” she glances at Grover anxiously as he, Leo, and Jason file into the carriage.

“It’s okay, Annabeth. I heard,” Grover says, offering a small smile.

Annabeth doesn’t return it. “It’s not okay, Grov. My mother is—unreasonable, and bigoted, and cruel. This new law—it bans werewolves from London itself.”

“It’s okay, really,” Grover insists. “I trust everyone who knows my secret. I’m safe at Hogwarts.”

Annabeth leans forward. “Grover, I figured it out. Others could do the same.”

“Then we’ll be more careful,” Grover says firmly. “Really, ‘beth. Thank you for the concern, but I’ve been dealing with this all my life. A new law won’t matter much.”

Annabeth leans back, sighing. “I know. I know, but it’s still—it’s just unfair.”

“We’ll get through it together,” Percy says, looking around at the group. “Won’t we?”

They all nod solemnly.

Just then, the carriage door opens and Piper’s cheerful face pops in. “Hello, mates,” she says, closing the door before twirling around and plopping down on the bench next to Jason. “What’s the matter with you lot? You look like someone took all the pumpkin pasties.”

Jason wraps his arm around his girlfriend. “Nothing, I guess we’re all just worn out with the paparazzi.”

Piper’s forehead wrinkles. “Oh, I saw that! I wasn’t able to get to you in time, ‘beth, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, Percy got me out of there,” Annabeth says, smiling at her best friend.

Piper nods at Percy. “Thanks for doing that, Perce. I bet it’s worse than ever because of the new law.”

Leo changes the subject abruptly. “So, mates. We’re in sixth year. I think we need to do something special to open up the year.”

“Like what?” Grover yawns.

“Like a Halloween party,” Leo says.

“We have a Halloween party every year, dumbass,” Percy says, amused.

“Yeah, but this year let’s take it up a notch.” Leo’s dark eyes sparkle. “How about a masked ball?”

“Doesn’t sound very much like one of the normal Marauder parties,” Piper comments. “But it actually isn’t a bad idea.”

Leo looks pleased. “Thanks, Pipes. I was thinking we could talk to Chiron and maybe have it in the Great Hall—make it a school-wide thing. It could be an excellent place to try out a few new pranks, and then the afterparty could be in the Gryffindor common room, like always.”

“That would be brilliant,” Annabeth puts in. “I love masked balls.”

“I’ve never been to one,” Grover and Percy say in unison.

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you all with your costumes.”

Percy leans back, casually wrapping an arm around Annabeth’s shoulders. Jason raises an eyebrow at him, but he ignores it. “I think that sixth year is off to a pretty great start.”




And surprisingly, saying that doesn’t jinx it.

Sixth year starts out pretty fantastic.

Unlike the previous year, the professors seem to have decided that Annabeth and Percy are getting along well enough so they don’t _have_ to sit together for ever class, but they still do anyway. Somehow, their close friend group—the Marauders, Annabeth, and Piper—have similar schedules, and the six of them share a lot of the same classes.

Evenings after supper often find them and whatever other friends decide to join them in the library or one of the common rooms studying. Someone usually brings snacks, and the air is bright with laughter.

Quidditch practice starts up again, and Percy relishes in it. It’s Thalia’s last year as captain, and she wants to go out with another victory, so she pushes them to their limit every single practice. Sometimes Percy barely has enough energy to fall into bed, but the feeling of triumph after he catches a snitch makes it all worth it.

Life is good. Busy, but good.

And of course, there’s Annabeth.

Percy still hasn’t told her his newly-realized feelings, and honestly he doesn’t plan to. Sure, he loves her. He’s _in_ love with her, one of his best friends, and it scares him because there’s pretty much nothing that he wouldn’t do for her at this point. She’s stolen his heart in a way no one ever has, captivating him with the very essence of her personality.

But she’s his friend. She’s said it before—they’re just friends, and won’t ever be anything more.

And there’s also the logistics of it. What if he told her his feelings, and she returned them, and they had to tell their other friends that they’d been sleeping together for almost a year now? Percy knows the other Marauders would be hurt and angry that he hadn’t told them, and Piper would probably _actually_ kill him.

It’s too complicated, and he doesn’t want to think about it right now, so he doesn’t.

They’ve got time.




But then, only a few days after school starts, everything changes.

Percy’s sitting at the breakfast table one morning, head slumped in his hand and slowly eating a biscuit. Everything hurts—his arms, his legs, his stomach—from a particularly intense quidditch practice the night before.

“I must have gotten really out of shape over the summer,” he says out loud to himself.

Clarice, passing with a breakfast tray in one hand, laughs. It comes out as more of a groan. “I think Thalia’s just being particularly cruel to us.”

Next to him, Leo chuckles. “Regretting the decision to be on the Quidditch team, Perce?”

“Never,” Percy says, scowling. “But still. Thalia could be a _little_ easier on us, I think.”

Jason snorts. “Try growing up with her, and then come talk to me.”

“How did you survive?” Percy wonders, picking at his biscuit.

Grover looks up from the _Daily Prophet_ article he’s reading. “What table is Annabeth eating at? I haven’t seen her this morning.”

Percy furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t know. I thought she said she’d be eating with us for breakfast.”

Jason nods, his blue gaze focused on something beyond Percy. “Speak of the devil.”

Percy turns around to find Annabeth striding up to them, her short hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Rude,” she says, flipping Jason off.

“Typical,” Jason snarks back, and Percy grins.

“Where were you? We thought you abandoned us…” he trails off, seeing someone standing behind Annabeth.

She gestures for the young man behind her to step forward. “Percy, this is Luke Castellan,” she says brightly. “I think you met him over the summer at the club, but I’m not sure if we did proper introductions.”

Percy stands up and shakes Luke’s hand, shoulders tense and a smile tight on his face. “Pleasure, I’m sure.”

“Likewise,” Luke says, nodding. “So this is the infamous Percy Jackson,” he says teasingly. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, from both Annabeth and her parents.”

Percy raises his eyebrows. “You know her parents?”

“Yes, Percy, he’s a friend of the family. I told you all about that,” Annabeth interjects.

He nods, as though remembering. “Oh, yes. I’d forgotten. You were going to Beauxbatons, right?”

“Correct,” Luke says. “I transferred for my last year at Hogwarts.”

“May I ask why?” Percy questions, ignoring Annabeth’s pointed glare.

Luke’s laughter seems genuine, but there’s a sudden coldness in his eyes that Percy doesn’t miss. “Maybe the company is just much better,” he says teasingly, draping an arm over Annabeth’s shoulders.

The other Marauders, silent until now, raise their eyebrows. Annabeth has become all of theirs, each in individual ways, but their love and protection of her remain the same. More than once, the four of them have scared off other guys checking the girls out or harassing them.

Annabeth sends them a quick, reassuring smile, and all of them relax except for Percy. He’s uncomfortable with the other guy’s arm around his best friend, the girl he’s in love with, despite the fact that she doesn’t even know it. He knows he has no right to be jealous, but—

His life is so messed up.

“I’m gonna head to the Quidditch pitch, practice a few of the drills Thalia gave us yesterday,” he says abruptly.

Annabeth looks disappointed. “But I thought we were going to eat breakfast—”

“I’m not really hungry,” Percy says, as his stomach growls.

She raises an eyebrow. Percy ignores her, leaving with a quick nod to the Marauders, and heads to the pitch.

He grabs his broom from the shed and starts flying over the pitch, furiously chucking quaffles into the hoops. He’s not even a chaser, but it helps take the edge off of—well, whatever he’s feeling. Jealousy, anger, maybe a little bit of fear.

He shouldn’t be feeling this. He has _no right_ to be feeling this. Annabeth isn’t his girlfriend, they’re not together. For all he knows, she sees him as just a friend. Her being friends with her childhood crush shouldn’t both him at all, but it _does,_ and he knows why.

He should just tell her his feelings, he argues with himself as he throws another quaffle into the hoop. Percy knows that it would crush him if she didn’t return them, that it would probably make things awkward for a while, but he could get over it. Maybe it would help him get over _her,_ get it back to just being friends.

He whizzes down the empty field, past the rows and rows of deserted stands, blood pounding in his ears and wind howling around his face, and suddenly there’s someone next to him, a flash of blond curls on a broom.

_Annabeth._

“What’s wrong?” she shouts, wind whipping the blonde hair around her face.

Percy slows down, shrugging. “Nothing, I’m just—”

“Practicing?” she asks wryly. “I saw how sore you looked earlier. And these don’t exactly look like seeker drills.”

“It’s none of your business, princess,” he snaps, uncharacteristically harsh. “I just needed some space.”

Annabeth rears back, the hurt all over her face, and Percy regrets his words immediately, “I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m just—”

“Can we talk?” she asks, nodding towards the stands hundreds of feet below them. Her curls blow wildly around her cheeks.

Percy nods in acquiesce, and they fly down to the stands, landing safely on one of the top rows. The wind, while weaker, is still cold, and Percy hands her his sweater wordlessly.

She smiles, grateful, and wraps it around her shoulders as she snuggles next to him. “I’m guessing this is about Luke,” she begins.

Percy purses his lips, chuckling bitterly. “You know me too well.”

Annabeth shrugs. “You’re worried about being replaced, and I get it, but Percy—he’s a childhood friend. My parents want me to show him around Hogwarts, give him a good impression, especially since his father’s working in the Ministry now. I do enjoy seeing him again, but I’m not going to replace you or any of my other friends with him.”

“Yeah,” Percy mumbles. “I know, I guess.”

She places her small hand on his large one, squeezing it gently. “You’re one of my best friends, Perce. That’s not going to change. Hopefully you can get to know Luke better, and we can all be friends.”

_Friends._

He nods, mustering up a smile for her.

She leans her head against his shoulder. “Now, I don’t want any of this overprotection crap, alright? I want you to make an effort to be friends with him, taking me out of the equation. You two are really similar; I think you’d get along well.”

“Alright,” Percy says, reluctant.

“You promise?” she asks him seriously.

“Fine, I promise,” he grumbles.

Annabeth beams at him as she stands up. “Thank you, Percy. Now I have to go—I’m already late for class.”

Percy stands with her. “Annabeth Chase, missing class for me? I’m honored.”

She smiles at him, soft. “Some people are worth a perfect attendance record, I guess.”

“I _guess_?” Percy mimics. “Rude.”

“Mmhmm.” Annabeth pokes him. “Don’t push it, Jackson.”

He winks at her. “Whatever you say, princess.”


	20. Chapter 20

And he tries.

He _really_ does.

Percy tries to get along with Luke. He lets him sit with him and the other Marauders at the breakfast table, lets him study in the library with them after supper, even shows him around the Gryffindor dorm room—because of _course_ that was the house Luke was sorted into—and gives him the Gryffindor speech.

But something about Luke just grates on him, and he honestly thinks it doesn’t have anything to do with Annabeth.

Okay, maybe it does. His feelings are a jumbled-up mess; he can barely sort them out at this point.

But he promised her, so he tries.

One thing that does help, though, is planning the Marauder Halloween masked ball. The four of them went to Chiron and asked for permission to hold it in the Great Hall, and the headmaster, pleased that his most rowdy students were actually asking for permission for something, acquiesced immediately.

Then Annabeth took charge.

Within hours of Chiron granting them their request, the whole school is buzzing about the ball. By now it’s early October, so the grand event is less than a month away. That weekend at Hogsmeade, the few clothing stores available are flooded with students finding the perfect costumes.

“I think it was a good idea,” Annabeth comments.

They’re at Honeydukes, sipping butterbeer and listening to the excited chatter around them about the ball. Percy leans back, nearly knocking Jason’s mug out of his hands. “Sorry, mate,” he says to his indignant friend before, “You _think,_ Chase?”

“Okay, actually I _know_ , but I wasn’t going to be rude about it,” Annabeth says primly, and Percy chokes back a laugh.

“I’ll be rude about it for you,” Leo says, grinning. “This was a bloody fantastic idea, Annabeth.”

She preens, flipping her hair dramatically. “Thank you.”

“Wait, wasn’t it Leo’s idea?” Grover interjects.

“It was actually Annabeth’s. She just told me to suggest it like it came from me,” Leo answers, doing fingerguns at her.

Annabeth smirks. “I knew you guys might just ignore it if the idea came from me.”

“Are you sure you’re not Ravenclaw?” Jason teases, knocking Annabeth’s shoulder with his own.

She scrunches her nose, thinking. “I’m _pretty_ sure, but who knows.”

“Who knows what?” Piper asks, sitting down with a few more mugs of butterbeer. Jason kisses her swiftly in greeting, and Percy looks away.

“Do you think Annabeth would be a good Ravenclaw, Pipes?” Leo asks, and the conversation dissolves into a debate about the subject.

Percy zones out, letting his eyes glaze as he scans the room lazily. Students chattering, younger ones darting in and out of the upperclassmen’s groups. A lot of girls are carrying dress bags that obviously have their costumes, and some of the boys do too, although Percy suspects most of them—including himself—will procrastinate until the weekend before the ball to get their costumes.

His eyes flit over the room until suddenly he freezes. Luke is in a dark corner of Honeydukes, talking to a man whose back is to the rest of the room. It looks almost like they’re arguing, Luke’s eyes darting around the room nervously and two spots of color in his cheeks.

Suddenly Luke stands up, like he’s shouting something, and shoves a bundle into the other man’s arms before storming out of Honeydukes. The other man glances around before slipping out the back door, but Percy couldn’t care less about him.

He stands up, startling Annabeth in the middle of a heated speech about house stereotypes. “Sorry, uh—washroom.” He squeezes past Piper and Jason and follows Luke out the door.

As soon as he gets outside, Percy glances around the street, trying to find the now-familiar broad shoulders and tousled blond hair. He catches sight of it a little farther down the street, disappearing into an alleyway, and Percy sprints to catch up.

He enters the little alley and sees Luke standing against a wall, looking exhausted. He glances up when Percy comes in.

“What do you want, Jackson?” His voice is weary.

Percy shuffles his feet. “I was just wondering who you were talking to in Honeydukes that got you so angry.”

“It’s none of your business,” Luke says, voice cold. “Get out of here.”

“What, you can’t defend yourself without Annabeth here?” Percy mocks.

Luke glares, his blue stare icy. “Maybe I just don’t care to defend myself, Jackson. Maybe I have nothing to defend.”

Percy shrugs. “If that’s the way you want to play it, fine.” He turns around, throwing over his shoulder, “See you later.”

He smirks to himself as he comes out of the alleyway. Score is Percy one, Luke zero. And now he has something to tell Annabeth—Luke is definitely hiding something, and Percy’s suspicions were correct.




“He’s not _hiding_ anything,” Annabeth protests.

Percy lengthens his stride to keep up with her, her heels clicking on the stone floor of the passageway. “I’m telling you, Chase. He was acting strangely, and that man—”

“Is none of our concern, or business,” Annabeth says firmly. “I’ll ask him about it, but Percy—I’m pretty sure you just want a reason to dislike him.”

Percy bites his tongue. She’s hit the nail on the head, but he’s not going to admit it, especially to her. “I still think he has a secret,” he says, stubborn. “And I’m not going to stop until I find out what it is.”

She shakes her head. “Just let it go, Perce.”

He shrugs, knowing he’s definitely not going to let it go.

Annabeth obviously knows this too, but as she opens her mouth to debate, they reach the end of the secret passageway, coming out a few halls away from History of Magic.

“We’re continuing this later,” she warns him as they enter the classroom and join the cluster of desks that their friend group is sitting at.

“Hey,” Jason nods to them.

“Where have you been? Class is about to start and I know you like to get to class early, Annabeth,” Grover asks, scruffy eyebrows furrowing.

“ _Someone_ had to bombard me with his suspicions about Luke,” Annabeth says pointedly.

Percy shrugs when his friends turn to him. “Something happened on Saturday that…” he trails off, catching sight of a flash of blond hair entering the classroom. “Later,” he mouths.

“Hello, all,” Luke greets them, slinging his bookbag down with a charming smile. “Beth, where were you earlier? I thought we were studying in the library for that Divination test.”

Percy frowns. _Beth?_

Annabeth slaps her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Luke. I’ve been so busy with planning the ball that I completely forgot. Raincheck?”

“Of course,” he answers smoothly.

Percy kind of wants to interject on this conversation here—maybe say something about how Annabeth is _his_ study partner and he doesn’t feel like sharing—but then he feels guilty. Annabeth isn’t a possession—she’s one of his best friends. That doesn’t mean she can’t have other friends, even if one of those friends is _Luke._

“Better be on time next time,” Luke says to Annabeth. His tone is teasing, but there’s a hint of— _something,_ that Percy can’t decipher.

_Quit overanalyzing. Annabeth said there’s nothing going on. Trust her,_ a little voice in his mind chides, and Percy takes a deep breath.

_Trust her._

He resolves to trust Annabeth, trust her instincts and experience and what she’s telling him. But there’s that small part of him that dislikes, distrusts Luke, and he doesn’t think it’s going to change anytime soon.

History of Magic begins, and Percy pulls out his book. He sneaks a glance at Annabeth, and she catches his eye, winking at him. At her teasing little smile and sparkling eyes, Percy relaxes.

Everything’s going to be fine.




“Everything is going to be absolutely _terrible,_ ” Annabeth frets.

“Shh,” Percy soothes. “The ball is going to be brilliant, okay. You’ve put an incredible amount of work into this, and it shows. Everyone in Hogwarts is talking about it.”

“I know, but—”

“Be quiet,” Percy orders.

“Fine,” Annabeth grumps, flopping onto the sofa and putting her socked feet in Percy’s lap. They’re in the Gryffindor common room, working on plans for the ball. “I’m just going to eat my feelings.” She pops a piece of chocolate into her mouth petulantly.

Percy stifles a laugh. “That time of month?”

“No, but I’m still irritable and stressed. I deserve as much chocolate as I want,” Annabeth says, sticking out her tongue at him.

Percy steals a piece from the bag she holds, and she swats at him half-heartedly. “Okay, let’s keep working. The house-elves are doing the food, right?”

“Yes,” Annabeth confirms. “Although Honeydukes is also going to be supplying some of the desserts.”

“So food’s covered. What about music?”

“I pulled a few strings and got _Weird Witches_ to come,” Annabeth says proudly.

Percy gasps, the pen falling from his hands. “What? _Weird Witches?_ That’s my favorite magic band!”

“I know,” she says, smug. “My mother went to school with the lead singer, and they’ve remained friends all these years.”

“You are actually scary sometimes. I never know what you might do next,” Percy says, shaking his head as he checks music off the list.

She laughs. “Thanks, I think. I like to keep you blokes on your toes.” Glancing around, she asks, “Speaking of which, where’s everyone else?”

“Jason has Ravenclaw Quidditch practice, Grover’s studying with Juniper, and Leo—I actually don’t know what Leo’s doing. Probably cooking up some more pranks for the ball.”

“More?” Annabeth raises her eyebrows. “If any of your pranks ruin this dance, so help me God I will actually kill all of you.”

“Don’t worry, I know,” he assures her. “All the pranks we’re doing are funny, not necessarily harmful to people or objects. Mostly.”

“ _Mostly,_ ” Annabeth mimics grumpily as she fishes for another piece of chocolate.

“I think.”

“Really reassuring, thanks.”

Percy grins cheekily at her as he shuffles through more papers. “Booze.”

Annabeth sits up, frowning. “I don’t think that’s supposed to be on the list.”

“I might have added it,” he says, shrugging.

“ _Percy,_ ” she says, stretching out his name. “I don’t want any of the teachers to have any reason to cancel this.”

“Fine,” he grumps. “I’ll just have to bring booze on my own, then.”

“Or you could get Leo to do it,” Annabeth says, quirking an eyebrow.

He shoots finger guns at her. “Now there’s a good idea.”

They work in silence for a few minutes before Percy feels a tickle on his side. He glances down and sees Annabeth’s fingertips brushing against his arm.

She smirks when he catches her. “Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” Percy asks, teasing as he reaches for her. “I think we’ve discovered before who’s the most ticklish, princess.” Annabeth squeals as he begins tickling her, choking with giggles as they wrestle playfully on the couch.

“Okay, okay, I give up,” Annabeth gasps dramatically. “You win.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Percy says, but his triumphant grin fades as they both seem to realize the position they’re in—lying on the couch, Percy on top of her and their noses mere inches from touching.

It’s been a while since they’ve hooked up, just out of pure business and stress. Between school, the ball, Quidditch practices and games, and other friends, neither of them have had a spare second. But now…

But now it’s a lazy Saturday afternoon, and there are only a few other people in the common room, and Annabeth is _really_ close.

He leans down and kisses her—soft, brushing his lips across hers almost hesitantly. She responds immediately though, like she was waiting for it. Percy kisses her desperately, realizing as she kisses him deeper how much he’s missed this, her lips on his and hands wandering and sparks flying.

“We should… find somewhere else, before someone sees us,” Annabeth gasps, pulling back.

Percy knows she’s right. “Where do you wanna go, princess?” he asks, voice rough.

She giggles, sitting up and smoothing back her wild curls. “I don’t know,” she replies coyly. “How about you choose?”

“I know just the spot.”

They exit the common room, laughing over nothing, and have races down the halls. Annabeth wins more than once, and Percy pretends to be annoyed by it, but all he can see is Annabeth’s smile, her sparkling eyes, the way she throws her head back when she laughs. Everything is heightened, and he drinks it in while he can.

Finally they make it to the room of requirement. Annabeth stands in front of the wall, eyes twinkling as she glances back at Percy. “I want a place to have some bloody fantastic sex with Percy Jackson.”

Percy chokes. “I can second that motion, yeah.”

The room opens, and they run in before the door turns back into a wall, breathless with laughter. Inside is a queen sized bed, a plush rug in front of the fireplace, and a thick sofa.

Annabeth grabs him by his collar and pulls him down, kissing him. Percy relishes in it, tasting her again after it’s been so long, the familiar feel of her lips under his. He slides his hands to her ass, and in one swift motion picks her up. She wraps her legs around his waist, and he spins around, her back to the wall.

He presses slow kisses to her neck that leave her keening and breathless, desperate for more. Her hands wind around his neck, tugging on his hair, nails scraping against his shirt. She begins to unbutton it, and Percy takes it as his cue. Stumbling a little, he carries her over to the bed with her legs wrapped around his waist and lays her down, still kissing her as she continues to unbutton his shirt.

They’re desperate, but slow; taking their time like they haven’t in a while. Annabeth brushes her hands along his chest once his shirt is unbuttoned and untucked, before he finally pulls back for a second to shrug it off. Her tie hangs rakish around her neck, loosened to the point of falling off, and he bites at her shoulder as he unbuttons her shirt.

A lacy red bra greets him, and he takes his time, pressing kisses to her sharp collarbones and sternum, eventually reaching the tops of her breasts and kissing them with long, opened-mouth kisses. She keens, her head falling back, short curls mussed and tumbling around her shoulders.

“Where do you want me, babe?” he asks, in between kisses. “Where do you want my hands? Your tits? Your back? Your ass?”

She gasps as he pulls one strap of her bra off her shoulder, exposing one perfect breast. His tongue flicks against her nipple. “My—my tits,” Annabeth says, breathless. “Please, Percy, _please—_ ”

He pushes down her bra, too busy to fully take it off, and squeezes her breasts, thumbs circling her sensitive nipples as her chest rises and falls rapidly. Whining, she pulls him back up to her mouth, and he lets his hands fall again to her waistband of her skirt.

“No, don’t—can’t wait,” she gasps, pushing his hands away.

Percy smirks as he pushes her skirt up. “What, princess? You want my head under your skirt, can’t even wait for me to take it off? You’re that desperate?”

She nods, eyes squeezed shut and biting her lip as his thumbs go back to working her nipples. “Please—”

“Fine, fine,” he drawls, and brings one hand down. The black thong she’s wearing is already damp, and he slowly rubs her clit through the fabric until she’s barely able to stifle her moans.

Percy smirks. It’s been a while—he’s going to make her wait for this. While still circling her clit, he pushes aside her panties, catching some of the wetness of her pussy and slowly entering her with one finger. She actually cries out, stuttering a little and tightening around his finger.

“Want me to take off your panties, princess?” he asks.

She nods rapidly, eyes still closed.

“Uh uh,” he says, teasing. “You’re gonna have to do a little better than that. Tell me what you want.”

“I want—I want you to take my panties off,” she says, shaky. “I want your tongue on my clit, fingers curling inside me until I scream.”

“Yeah?” he laughs, delighted. “Is that what you want, princess?”

“Yeah,” she replies, nodding. “Oh—” Annabeth gasps as he curls his finger inside her in answer to her requests. “Please, don’t stop. God, Percy, don’t stop.”

He doesn’t say anything, instead pushing her skirt up and finally pulling her panties off in one motion. She keens at the loss of his finger, and then whines as his head settles between her thighs.

His breath fans hot against her pussy, making her shiver. He finally gives her what she wants, pressing his tongue flat against her clit, and she shudders. Tongue working in slow circles around her clit, then faster and faster, he finally enters her with his finger.

He thinks he could live on the sounds she’s making—the soft little gasps, the moans when he hits a spot she likes, the way she whines as she gets closer and closer. He’s forgotten how much he loves eating Annabeth out. Making her wait for it, making her shudder and shake with pleasure—it’s exhilaratingly hot. 

“Touch your tits, babe,” he says, pulling back for a second. “Touch your pretty tits for me, yeah? Since I can’t reach them?”

He can see her nod desperately, her small hands clutching her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples in a way that mimics his tongue on her clit.

He adds another finger, and she cries out, gasping, as he pumps his fingers in and out of her, pressing into that spot, tongue flicking fast and hard against her clit.

Percy can feel the exact second she begins to fall apart, her pussy tightening around his fingers, a breathless cry falling from her mouth before she can even stop it. He finger-fucks her through it until she pushes him away when it turns to overstimulation.

She tugs him back up to her mouth, laughing a little. Her curls are mussed and a little sweaty, and he swipes his tongue against her lip. “How was that?”

He can feel her grin against his lips. “You’re _way_ too good at that,” she complains.

“I’ve had some practice,” he admits, and Annabeth laughs.

“I know, trust me,” she replies, and pulls back enough to look at him. “How about I repay the favor?”

Percy’s grin is a little vicious. “I’m down for that.”

“No, I am,” she quips, and he shakes with laughter when he gets the joke.

She smirks as she finally pulls off her skirt and unfastens her bra the rest of the way, letting it drop to the floor as she gets off the bed and spins him around. Percy braces himself as she gives him a long, lingering kiss, before dropping down on her knees.

“Show me what you’ve got, princess,” he teases, and her smirk is dangerous.

“Don’t worry,” she says, tossing her curls back confidently. Percy forgot how much he misses this, too—the sexy banter, her confident smirk, the look in her eye. He’d forgotten how much he enjoys it, how much they both love it.

And then she unzips his pants and pulls down his briefs, and he can’t think of much else.

Annabeth braces her hand against his hip, one hand at the base of his cock, and palms his erection against his stomach, taking a long lick from the tip to the base. Precum oozes as Percy bucks a little even from her slight touches. She takes the head into her mouth, and Percy keens at the feeling, as her tongue swirls around the tip.

She takes him a little farther, fingers playing with his balls. He touches the back of her throat, and she gags a little but takes it back before letting him pop out again, licking the shaft, teeth barely grazing him.

Sucking gently at the tip, she uses her other hand to play with the base of his cock, letting him pump in and out of her mouth. He can feel how close he is, despite the fact that she’s barely been touching him for ten minutes, and he knows he won’t be able to last much longer.

Desperate, he pulls her up for a kiss, and she obliges, seemingly understanding. They make out for a bit against the bed before she pulls back. “I want you inside me.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Percy replies, turning around and bending her over the bed, entering her from behind. He fucks her fast and hard, fingers shaky on her clit, the sounds of their skin slapping together and muffled swearing echoing in the room.

Neither of them last long; she tightens around him only seconds before he follows, and they both fall, fatigued, onto the bed.

Percy grabs a pillow, and she lays her head on his chest in an exhausted, golden silence, both catching their breath.

“That was good,” she remarks, running her fingers over his sweaty bare chest.

Percy huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, you don’t say.”

“I should probably go finish the planning—” she starts, making a move to get up, but he pulls her back before she can.

“Just—stay here for a minute,” he tells her, quiet.

She lays her head back onto his chest, soft curls brushing his skin. “Alright.” The sound of the fire crackling and her soft breaths against his chest as she falls asleep quickly lull him to sleep as well.

And if they’re a little late for dinner because they ended up sleeping for a few hours, hair mussed and clothes rumpled, both their cheeks still flushed and eyes bright from their nap, well—

It’s worth it.


	21. Chapter 21

“You really need to get a costume,” Annabeth tells him at breakfast about a week later.

Percy glances up, currently involved in a debate about defensive spells with Jason and Grover. “What?”

Leo throws a piece of food at him. “She said you need to get a costume, dumbass.”

Percy scowls at him. “I heard the question, I just didn’t know for sure what she meant.”

Piper sighs. “That reminds me. Jason, you need to get a costume too.”

Annabeth’s eyes widen. “Have _any_ of you lot gotten costumes yet?”

The four boys shake their heads a little shamefully.

Piper and Annabeth make long-suffering eye contact. “Uh, what was that look for?” Grover demands.

“Are you disappointed in us?” Jason asks teasingly, pecking Piper’s cheek.

She sighs, pushing him away teasingly. “I shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. Beth, what do you think?”

“I think we need to go shopping this weekend,” Annabeth says firmly. “The ball is in only a few weeks, and all the best costumes will be taken if you don’t get a move on.”

“What even classifies as a costume?” Percy wonders. “I mean, it’s a masked ball. I could just wear robes and get a mask and call it a day.”

“ _Nope._ You’re one of the main planners, you don’t get to get away with throwing on a paper mask,” Annabeth says firmly. “In fact, I’m just going to tell all of you now that Piper and I will be dictating what you wear, since you’ve all shown that you can’t seem to think for yourselves.”

They groan, but acquiesce. They all know the girls are extremely stubborn once they’ve gotten their heads set on something, and together even more so.

They never stood a chance.

Which brings them to Hogsmeade on Saturday.

The small town is bustling with other student getting costumes, on dates, and shopping. The six of them are so well known throughout the school at this point that the crowd actually parts around them, people whispering and laughing and in awe as they pass.

Annabeth winks at Percy, and he grins back at her, remembering their conversation at Piper’s birthday party. Being so well-known can have some downsides, but the perks aren’t bad, either.

They end up at a small costume shop down the street. It looks like the morning rush has mostly passed, and while it’s still crowded, it’s manageable.

“Have you gotten your costumes?” Leo asks the girls.

They roll their eyes in perfect unison. It’s honestly a little scary. “Of course,” Annabeth says, sighing.

“What are you wearing?” Percy asks her in a low voice.

She smothers a giggle. “That sounds vaguely dirty,” she says, teasing. “Do you actually want to know, or are you picturing what I’ll be wearing underneath?”

He shrugs, wiggling his eyebrows. “Could be either.”

Her laugh rings out this time, and Piper glances back at them, raising her eyebrows. Annabeth lowers her voice. “I guess you’ll just have to see, huh?”

“What if I’d like to see now?” Percy asks, fingers sneaking to the waistband of her skirt.

Her lips part just a little. “I think we’d have to be very careful,” she responds.

“I think we’re good at being careful, huh, princess?”

She rolls her hips, brushing the front of his trousers, and he sweeps her curls from her neck, when suddenly—

“Annabeth, how does this look?” Grover asks, holding up a costume.

Annabeth springs away from him, glaring at Percy and smoothing her skirts. Grover doesn’t even notice, instead pulling at the costume. “I think this color could be good on me, and Juniper said she was wearing yellow…”

“Um, yes. I think that would look great, Grov. What mask would you wear with it?” Annabeth asks, and Percy sighs, turning back to the row of costumes in front of him.

He has absolutely no idea what to get for himself. What even do you wear to a masked costume ball anyway? There are literally hundreds of costumes to choose from, and the options make him anxious. What if he picks the wrong one, or he looks stupid, or…

And then he sees one, and he smiles.

Maybe this might work after all.




It’s Halloween evening, and the castle is literally buzzing with excitement.

The professors made the wise decision to cancel classes for the day; they probably knew people would have been skipping class or, at best, not paying attention at all. Every house has been going to different common rooms, Slytherins in the Hufflepuff common room and Gryffindors in Ravenclaw, friends getting ready with friends for the ball.

“Honestly, this is better than I ever thought it would turn out,” Percy admits to Annabeth that morning.

She flashes a smile. “Well, duh. I planned it.”

He kind of has to give it to her. The meticulous planning and endless work that Annabeth had put into this thing over the past months _shows._ The Great Hall has been cleared of tables, and tasteful Halloween decorations cover the walls. The chandeliers are all lit, casting shadowy golden light on every surface.

Percy checks his watch. It was 6pm, and people are already beginning to show up. Technically the ball doesn’t start for another hour, but already there are dozens of people talking and laughing.

The costumes are creative, Percy will give them that. He sees mermaids, goblins, famous couples, and even muggle ideas (he’s pretty sure there’s a guy dressed in a Spongebob costume).

He’s not too mad about his costume either; he refused to show it to Annabeth or any of the Marauders, keeping it a surprise until the ball. It’s some kind of Greek deity, he’s not sure which one, but there’s a trident, so. He knows Annabeth will probably lecture him on it once she sees it, so he just puts on his mask and waits for her. The sandals wrap around his legs, hitting his knees, and a short, toga-like skirt connects to a cream-colored strip of fabric that wraps over one shoulder. Other than that, he’s bare-chested, and goosebumps cover his arms in the slightly chilly air of the Great Hall. His mask is in the shape of feathery wings, painted gold to match the trident.

All in all, he’s pretty proud of it.

He’s fiddling with the trident, bored, when there’s a tap on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Annabeth says, grinning, and Percy gapes when he sees her costume.

“We did _not_ plan this,” he immediately says to Jason, who’s next to Annabeth and snickering at the both of them.

Annabeth’s in a Greek dress as well, her short curls in a messy bun on top of her head, tendrils sweeping around her face. The creamy white of the toga-style dress flows gently around her curves and touches the floor, barely brushing the winding sandals on her feet. A few chains cover one shoulder, sweeping gently over her collarbone and chest. Her mask is similar to his, but the wings are a silvery grey, bringing out the color of her eyes.

“You look great,” Percy says, grinning. He strikes a pose, hand on his hip. “How do I look?”

“You look fantastic, you butt,” Annabeth says, rolling her eyes. “Did you see my costume ahead of time or something?”

“No! I pinkie promise, I had no idea,” Percy insists. “I just saw this in the costume shop and thought it looked cool.”

Annabeth sighs. “I bet you have no idea who you even are, do you?”

“Um. No,” Percy says guiltily. “Who?”

She points to the trident. “That’s the symbol of Poseidon, god of the sea. I, on the other hand—” she points to her mask. “am Athena. Goddess of wisdom.”

“Eh, sounds about right,” Percy shrugs. He offers her is arm. “Shall we go dance?”

She pushes him away, turning to Jason. “The ball doesn’t start for another hour, you dork. Jase, can you go check to make sure the house elves have the food ready?”

He salutes. “Yes ma’am.”

She turns back to Percy. “Do you know where the rest of the Marauders are?”

“Um, I think Grover and Leo are in the Ravenclaw common room getting ready. Where’s Pipes?”

“She’s in the Gryffindor common room, I think so that Jason wouldn’t see her until the ball,” Annabeth answers distractedly. “I’m going to go make sure the Weird Witches are on their way and that the amplifying spells are in place. Can you please go check on Leo and Grover—I don’t want them bringing booze in without supervision.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Percy replies.

She rises on her tiptoes, quick, and kisses him on the cheek. “Thanks, Perce. I’ll find you once the ball starts, yeah?”

The kiss was so quick, so simple, and yet it catches Percy off guard in a way he would have never expected. He forces his voice to be steady, normal, for her. “Sounds good to me, princess.”




Within a few hours, the party has gone fully underway. Percy’s barely seen his friends—they’re all scattered around, making sure the party’s going well, dancing with their dates, or eating hastily in the corners before getting called to help with some problem. He’s barely managed to scarf down a few pastries the entire time, despite the rather impressive selection of food on the huge tables spanning the walls.

It’s one thing after another—the Weird Witches need help setting up, Leo accidentally left some fireworks in the trash that just _happened_ to go off as Octavian and his friends passed by, Chiron comes out in a robe that’s literally entirely made of sequins. Percy trots wearily from one event to another until the ball’s in full swing and he realizes he hasn’t even noticed.

Finally, Annabeth finds him. She has a bright smile on her face as she grabs his hand, and Percy blinks. “What?”

“It’s the _ball,_ you idiot!” she cries gleefully. “Let’s go dance!”

Percy gestures to a pile of pumpkin pasties that someone had knocked to the ground. “I need to go help with this—”

“No,” Annabeth says firmly. “Hey, Percy. Listen to me. We did _so much work_ for this the past few months, it’s insane. You need a night off, and what better night than the one we’ve been planning for all these weeks?”

“But—” Percy tries again, gesturing helplessly to the pasties scattering the ground.

“Nope,” she says again, pulling him to the dance floor. It’s packed with people, students in multicolored costumes and masks of all shapes and sizes having the time of their lives. “We’re dancing, you arse. Remember last Halloween?”

Percy’s mind flashes back to grabbing Annabeth’s hand and pulling her to the dance floor, the pulsing disco lights and music blasting in their ears. It was the first time they’d really had fun together, had gotten close enough to cross some boundaries and walls they had previously built up over the years in their relationship.

It’s kind of ironic, he reflects. Annabeth’s hand in his as she drags him to the dance floor, all inhibitions gone and a spark of mischief in her eye. So much has changed in the past year.

He finally relaxes and flashes a slow smile. “I guess let’s dance then, huh?”

(So they do.)

He grabs her hands and they spin, dancing ridiculously badly to the music, Annabeth does some truly terrible rendition of the whip, and Percy matches it as he tries to twerk on the dance floor, Annabeth crying with laughter as she watches him. They sway to the slow, romantic songs, they join hands with other friends during others, they dance and dance and _dance._

It’s like Percy feels every ounce of stress and sadness and annoyance that had accumulated due to planning the ball disappearing with every step that he takes, every time Annabeth pulls him back into the dance, every time he takes her hand. He doesn’t think about anything except her, the music pounding in his blood, the smell of sweat and food and perfume and alcohol in the air in the crowded, dark hall.

Right when Percy thinks he’s about to collapse from exhaustion, another slow song comes on, and Annabeth winds her arms around his neck, body close to his. He can feel her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath, feels her hips against his, and tries desperately not to focus on how flushed her cheeks are and how her eyes sparkle in the light of the candles in the chandeliers.

“So, are you glad you helped me plan this?” she teases.

Percy ducks his head, smiling. “Okay, fine, ‘beth. You win. You had a really good idea, and it turned out really well. Happy now?”

“Very,” she chirps, and then starts chattering on about something else, something to do with Grover and Juniper’s matching couple costumes, he’s not quite sure.

Percy gets lost in her eyes, her face, the way she laughs and raises her eyebrows, how she brushes her slightly sweaty curls back from her smooth forehead, freckles just barely splayed across her nose. He _loves_ her, he wants to tell her, and in that moment, he decides to do it.

“Annabeth,” he says, interrupting her, and then falls silent, a wave of nervousness crashing down on him all at once.

Her blonde eyebrows furrow. “Yes?”

He takes a deep breath. “I lo—”

A loud scream interrupts him. Abruptly the music stops, and a circle parts around a girl sobbing on the floor, clutching her ankle. Hundreds of whispers begin to rise as people try to figure out what happened, but one voice in particular cuts through the confusion.

“Calypso, are you alright? What happened?” Luke Castellan’s concerned voice rises as he kneels beside the girl on the floor.

Percy, with Annabeth right behind him, push through the crowd of whispering students gawking at the spectacle. “Everyone back up, give her some space,” he says authoritatively, and surprisingly, people obey.

He turns to Calypso, who has tears streaming down her face and is still holding her ankle. Annabeth is already kneeling next to Luke, talking to the panicked girl in a soothing voice, but she gets up when Percy taps her shoulder.

“What happened?” he asks in a low tone.

Annabeth shrugs her shoulders, as though the whole thing confuses her. “I’m not entirely sure, but it seems like she was dancing and then she just—tripped and sprained her ankle pretty badly? At least that’s what I’m getting.”

“Why is Luke here? I didn’t know he was friends with her.”

“Perce, he’s her date,” Annabeth explains, and Percy clenches his fists, because just then Leo comes up and hears what Annabeth says.

Leo has had a crush on Calypso for _years._ Percy knows for a fact that he was planning on asking her to the ball, but with how busy he had been with the planning, he doesn’t remember if Leo had ever told him Calypso’s answer. Obviously, it wasn’t what Leo had hoped.

If it had just been another guy, it would have been one thing, but _Luke—_

Leo’s face—crushed, but trying to hide it as he melts back into the crowd before Percy can say anything—is just yet another reason that Luke is a douche.

Percy crouches down and looks at Calypso. “Do you want to go to the hospital wing?”

She shakes her head. “No, I will after the ball. I don’t want to leave.”

Percy furrows his brow. “Are you sure? Your ankle’s kind of swollen already, and—”

Calypso shakes her head again. “I’ll just sit down. I’ve been looking forward to this since the beginning of school, I don’t want to miss it.”

Percy understands, so he gets to his feet. “Alright.” He fixes Luke with a pointed stare. “I’m sure your date will take care of you.”

Luke meets his gaze steadily. “Of course.” He actually _picks up_ Calypso like he’s some superhero in a movie, and gently carries her, bridal-style, to the tables and chairs at the corner of the room.

Percy glares at his retreating back.

Annabeth rolls her eyes and claps her hands, cutting through the whispers. “Alright, people, nothing to see here!”

The music begins again, and people go back to dancing or head to the food tables. Annabeth is called over to help with something, so Percy skulks around the edges of the room, keeping an eye on Luke and Calypso. At first, it seems like things are going fine—Luke gets her plates of food, helps her take off her flats and prop her ankle up on a chair, sits next to her and talks with her.

Percy relaxes a little bit. Maybe Luke isn’t such a bad guy after all. Maybe he really is overthinking this.

And then he looks back at where the couple had been, and the chairs are empty.

He sees Calypso’s white dress disappearing around a corner of the exit hallway at a suspiciously fast pace for someone with a sprained ankle, and then he sees a flash of Luke’s hand grasping her arm and steering her with worrying strength.

He follows them. Obviously. Because while minding his own business is not one of his strongest suits, minding his own business when it comes to Luke is even less of one. Plus, he cares about Leo, and Leo cares about Calypso, so he needs to make sure she’s okay too.

They go down the hall at a rapid pace, and Percy winces when he catches a quick glimpse of Luke nearly dragging Calypso down the empty hall, grip like a vice around her delicate arm. He has to nearly throw himself against a wall to avoid being seen as they stop suddenly, and Luke’s low voice rings out.

“You should go to your common room.”

“I don’t want to,” Calypso protests. “I already explained how I was just going to stay in the Great Hall—”

Luke cuts her off with a growl. “I don’t care. Your ankle is hurt, you should at least go rest, or go to the hospital wing. Come on, Calypso. Don’t be an idiot.”

“I’m not being an idiot,” she answers hotly. “I just want to spend time at the Halloween ball that I’ve been looking forward to for months with my date. Is that too much to ask?”

Percy hears Luke heave a long sigh. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but—” Percy can’t see him, but Luke’s voice suddenly changes—it gets lower, almost more authoritative, more powerful. “Go to the hospital wing. Stay there the rest of the night.”

There’s a pause. Percy holds his breath.

Then he hears Calypso say, almost robotically—“Okay,” and the sound of her limping away down the hall. He’s so confused that he just barely manages to hide behind a suit of armor in the hall as Luke walks past him briskly, humming to himself.

Percy freezes, staying behind the suit of armor for far longer than he needs to, long after Luke’s footsteps have faded into the distance. His head whirling, he tries to focus on what he just witness—or rather, what he just heard.

Calypso had been adamant about staying at the ball, about not going to the hospital wing until later, and then she just—changed her mind? Just like that? After Luke told her to?

It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense.

Percy sets his jaw grimly. It was time to do some more detective work on the mystery of Luke Castellan.

When he gets back to the ballroom, though, it’s like the universe is actually conspiring against him. He sees a flash of blond curls as a certain Luke Castellan twirls Annabeth in his arms, both of them with wide smiles. Percy clenches his fists so hard that when he glances down at his palms, they have deep crescent-shaped marks. But he barely even noticed as he stalks over to the refreshment table to the specific punch bowl he caught Leo spiking earlier.

After downing a few glasses, he just stews, his gaze never leaving the happy couple. It’s like everyone’s blurry except for Luke and Annabeth, and all he can see is her—her flushed cheeks and laughing smile, her bright eyes and the way her costume clings to her body when she twirls. It’s almost enough to make him smile, and then he’ll remember just who she’s dancing with and fall back into a stormy silence.

He doesn’t even noticed Jason until his friend is next to him, leaning with his back against the table. “You look happy.”

“Screw off,” Percy growls, turning away.

Jason just raises an eyebrow. “Go do something about it?” he suggests, taking a sip of Percy’s half-empty punch cup before his eyebrows scrunch together. “Damn, whatever Leo put in here is _strong_.”

“Kinda need it right now,” Percy admits. “And—I want to, but that would be a bit of a dick move, you know? If she wanted to dance with me, then she’d ask. Not accept that—” he gestures wildly, “ _douchebag’s_ offer.”

Jason chuckles a little. “I think you’re a little biased, Perce.”

“What do you mean?” Percy asks, grumpy. “I’m not biased at all. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh, besides the fact that you’re in love with Annabeth? You’ve also hated Luke from the moment you met him. And everyone knows the real reason why—see point A,” Jason explains, dry.

“That’s not the reason!” Percy splutters. “It has nothing to do with Annabeth, honestly. I think he’s up to something, and—”

“—and you’re going to find out what. I know. You’ve mentioned. To me, numerous times, and to just about everyone else in the school too,” his friend answers, sighing. “Percy—at first it could be excusable, but you’re going to have to get over this stupid grudge soon. Everyone else loves Luke—he’s a good bloke, and popular, and intelligent. Your hatred of him is getting annoying, both to me and a whole lot of other people.”

Percy doesn’t miss the pointed look at Annabeth that Jason sends him. He crosses his arms, stubborn.

“I’m just saying, man—you’re going to start pushing people away if you can’t figure out how to get along with Luke,” Jason finishes, setting down the punch cup and turning away. But before he goes, he pats Percy on the shoulder. “But all of that aside—go talk to Annabeth. Dance with her. You worked hard for tonight, let it pay off a little without thinking about Luke.”

Percy watches Jason walk back to where Piper’s waiting for him with a few of their other friends, silent. He knows his friend is right, he _does,_ but he can’t shake the nagging feeling that Luke really is up to something. And something that was a whole lot bigger than just taking Annabeth—although, to be fair, he really needed to stop that, too.

He’s just about to make up his mind and go ask Annabeth to dance when he looks up again to see that the band has started playing slower music, and that the girl he’s in love with is currently wrapped _very_ tightly in the arms of another. Her cheek is pressed against Luke’s chest, and his mouth is by her ear, lips moving in whispering words known only to her.

A roaring in his blood travels throughout his body, bringing a flush to his cheeks and a buzzing in his ears, and Percy spins around, knocking over his punch and stalking away from the table, to the exit of the Great Hall.

He disappears too fast to see Annabeth raise her head from Luke’s shoulder, eyes searching the hall like she’s looking for someone. And he’s long gone when tears spring to her eyes and she bites her lip in disappointment, not having found who she was looking for.


	22. Chapter 22

Neither Annabeth or Percy mention the ball the next day, or the next, or the next. Ever, actually. It’s like that night didn’t even happen for the two of them, despite the rest of the castle chattering about it and telling stories for weeks after.

It’s like the almost-confession has only intensified Percy’s feelings, though. He was so close to finally telling her the truth, to knowing for sure what she felt for him, and then to have it interrupted—it’s like everything’s just magnified now. Every time he sees her, his heart aches with the want to tell her, to have her return his love, to be with her as more than friends.

But he’s a coward, and the moment was lost. He can’t try again, not yet.

Percy’s waiting for her in the hall one day, lost in thought as he leans against the stone wall. Leo and Grover had been discussing a prank with him earlier, and he’s running through the logistics of it in his head, trying to figure out what would work the best, when someone says his name, and he looks up with a start.

He’s expecting Annabeth, or maybe one of the Marauders, or even someone from the Quidditch team. But none of those people are who stand before him, and he blinks a few times to make sure he’s not seeing things.

Nope, the head of curly red hair and sultry green gaze actually is in front of him.

_Rachel Dare._

“Uh, hey, Rachel,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “Do you—do you need something?”

Rachel flutters her dark eyelashes coyly, playing with a short red curl. Her shirt is very deeply unbuttoned, and Percy fights to keep his eyes above her neck. “Just wondering how you were doing. You know we haven’t talked much recently, and…” she goes off chattering.

_Did we ever talk to begin with?_ Percy wonders confusedly, trying to keep up with whatever she’s going on about now. Something about the ball, and his costume, and _did you know that there’s a new clothes shop in Hogsmeade, and—_

Now, see. Percy stayed up most of the night studying for an exam, due to Annabeth’s insistence, and a small part of his mind is still partly focused on the prank and what’s going to go into it. An even smaller part is impatiently waiting for Annabeth to come—she’s late, and should have been here earlier since they _agreed_ that they’d meet at three to go over the study guide for Chiron’s exam tomorrow.

With his mind being in so many places at once, he barely comprehends what was happening when Rachel moved even closer to him, definitely into his personal space. He backs up, hitting the wall, and then she moves even closer, still talking, still smirking, and then—

She kisses him, pressing him against the wall. Percy doesn’t even close his eyes, so confused and shocked that he just freezes.

And of course, that’s when he sees Annabeth rounding the corner and stopping in her tracks, eyes widening in shock and confusion.

It’s like the world itself freezes, except for the two of them, Percy with Rachel’s lips still on his and Annabeth a few feet away. He can see her chest rise in almost slow motion as she breathes in, her lip quivering a little, eyes filling up with tears.

And then everything snaps back to normal. Percy pushes Rachel off him, but not before Annabeth’s spun around and nearly sprinting back up the hallway.

“Wait!” he calls, running after her. “Chase!”

She’s wearing heels and carrying a large bookbag, so it doesn’t take long for him to catch up to her. She refuses to stop though, still nearly running up the hall, ignoring Percy’s attempts to talk. He finally jumps in front of her and grabs her shoulders, physically stopping her.

“Let go of me,” Annabeth says, voice rough.

“Princess,” he says, feeling his eyelashes damp against his cheek. “Please, let me explain.”

“Explain?” Annabeth throws her hands up in the air. “It’s pretty damn obvious. I don’t think there’s anything to explain.”

“No, you have no idea what was going on. I promise—” he tries, but Annabeth pushes his hands off her shoulders and keeps walking.

“I don’t think so,” she says, and her voice is like ice.

“Annabeth, please,” he begs, voice breaking, and reaches out to touch her arm. “I swear, there’s an explanation, if you’d just listen to me—”

“Don’t fucking _touch_ me, Jackson,” she snarls, jerking her arm from his grasp. “I must have—misread this relationship. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize, and—” he tries again.

She interrupts him. “Just—leave me alone, please.”

Percy steps back miserably. “Can we talk later? Please?” His heart feels like it’s crumbling into a million tiny pieces, physically aching with the hurt and confusion and the icy rejection from the person he loves most in the world.

She doesn’t even turn around or acknowledge his request, just hunches her shoulders and walks away.

Percy stands in the hallway, shoulders slumped and watching her go.

It’s like the last ray of sunlight leaves the castle.




He tries to explain.

Over, and over, and over. He tries to talk to Annabeth, to make her understand that moment was a mistake, that it wasn’t even his fault or choice. But she continues to not listen, to walk away, and to surround herself with other people so he can’t talk to her.

It’s obviously incredibly hurtful, but also frustrating, to be honest. Percy doesn’t understand why it’s even such a big deal to her—they’re not _dating,_ and they’ve barely hooked up this school year anyway with how busy they both have been. They’re basically just best friends with a little history, and so it doesn’t seem fair that Annabeth has taken a kiss with someone else so personally.

But he doesn’t want to lose his best friend. Even if he never gathers up the courage again to tell her about his true feelings, he still needs Annabeth in his life. She’s the one person he knows he can always go to, always trust, who will always be there for him. His relationship with her is as close as with the Marauders, but in a different way.

And living without her is torture.

They’ve had arguments before, but they’re mostly stupid, petty things that they get over in a day, if not less. This has been the longest Percy has gone without talking to Annabeth since their feud ended last year, and he hates it. It’s like a physical ache in his heart when he sees her, and their gazes meet, and she turns away icily. There’s a stab in his chest when he passes her in the halls, or in class, and she pointedly talks to someone else, or flat out ignores him.

But the hurt is the worst when he catches sight of her afterwards, and sees that her eyelashes are wet, or that her nose is crinkled in the way it always is when she’s holding back tears. He knows her _so well,_ can read every expression intimately, can understand her body language like she has what she’s feeling tattooed on her skin.

But he can’t figure out this, can’t _fix_ this, and it’s killing him.

He thought it couldn’t get any worse.

It could.

He walks into the Great Hall for breakfast a few days after their fight, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and ignoring the jump in his stomach as he sees Annabeth, and has to look away.

And then his gaze snaps back, because she’s standing in the middle of his friends, the Marauders, and they’re all staring at him with the same expression—disgust? confusion?—before turning away like he isn’t even worth looking at.

He approaches them warily. “What’s the matter?”

None of them meet his gaze, or even attempt to answer his question. Percy raises his eyebrows and repeats it, louder. “What’s the matter?”

Jason huffs out an angry laugh. “I can’t believe you, Perce. After everything you told me, after all this—” He shakes his head.

Percy is bewildered. He knows what they have to be talking about—everything is centered around Annabeth now, there’s nothing else that they could even be mentioning—but this doesn’t make sense. “What?”

He had _told_ Jason was happened, a few hours after Rachel kissed him. He had told all of them. What could Annabeth have said to make them not believe him?

Leo rolled his eyes. “I love you, mate, but this was an arse move. Even for you.” He pushes his chair away from the table noisily and leaves.

Grover follows after him timidly, but not before a pitying glance toward Percy. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he murmurs before leaving.

Percy’s pretty sure his jaw has hit the floor just out of pure confusion. “What the fuck is happening? Why is everyone acting like this?”

Jason sighs heavily. “Annabeth told us what really happened, Percy. Whatever made you think that any of that was a good idea—I don’t even know.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like Leo said—we love you. But we love Annabeth too, and—she’s really hurt right now. Because of you.”

“Jason, I have _tried_ to apologize!” Percy says hotly, his voice rising. “But she won’t listen to me! And to be fair, it’s not even my _fault._ ”

Jason laughs bitterly. “Not your fault? That’s rich.”

“I don’t know why you’re saying this!” Percy says, desperate. “I don’t understand any of what’s happening right now.”

Jason shakes his head. “Well, I hope you figure it out.” He turns around, leaving Percy standing dejectedly, more confused than ever before.

He hears a slow laughter behind him. “Looks like you’ve really fucked up, man.”

Percy turns slowly, knowing exactly who that laughter belonged to. “What did you say?” he asks, soft, his hands shaking.

Luke jerks his head towards Jason’s disappearing form. “Looks like you’ve fucked up. Treating Annabeth like that—that’s a dick move, man. All this time, you’ve been obsessed with me, saying I’m up to something, or whatever. But this?” Luke spreads his hands. “You’re the real asshole here.”

Percy feels the roaring come back into his ears. “Don’t you dare,” he hisses, “get involved in this. None of this is your business.”

“Oh, really?” Luke raised an eyebrow. “I was the first person Annabeth came to. She told me everything. And I have to say—I’m not actually mad you did what you did. I mean yeah, it sucks for her, but in the long run she deserves better.”

“She—wait, what?” Percy asks, hands clenched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why don’t you asked the lady yourself?” Luke says, chuckling. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to tell you.”

“I don’t give a fuck what she says, I want to hear your side of the story,” Percy growls. “This was you, I knew it had to be you. You said something to her, you did something—”

He raises his hands innocently. “I didn’t do anything. You managed this one all on your own, Jackson.” Luke turns around and whistling, starts to walk away.

And Percy _snaps._

He catches up to Luke, grabs his arm, and punches him, a swift right hook to the jaw that has the other boy stumbling backwards. Gasps flicker around the hall, and a crowd of sleepy students wanting a show begins to form.

The lovely thing about being in the magical world is that pure force isn’t used a lot; there are always spells, or jinxes, or hexes, instead. So despite the fact that Luke’s a little taller, he still staggers, looking both shocked and enraged, and Percy knows that he’s got this one.

Well, he _would_ have if Professor McGonagall hadn’t come over, looking more angry than he’s ever seen her (and that’s saying something considering all the pranks the Marauders have pulled). “Mr. Jackson,” she says sternly, and Percy knows he’s in for it. “I expected so much more from you.”

And despite having braced himself for a lecture and a punishment, probably detention, that—it hurts a little. McGonagall has always been a role model of sorts for him, a mother away from home, and to have the disappointment radiating from her like this hurts more than he would have imagined.

“Yes ma’am,” he mutters, his hands twisting nervously behind his back. “I’m sorry.”

The look she gives him is more disappointment than anger, and again—it cuts him like a knife. “You’ll have detention every Saturday for the next four weeks, and you will apologize to Mr. Castellan.” When Percy balks a little, she furrows her eyebrows sternly. “ _Now._ ”

Percy doesn’t mind detention—only four weeks is honestly a lot better than he was expecting. But apologizing?

He bites his lip, turning to Luke, who’s holding his rapidly bruising jaw and glowering. “I’m sorry,” he forces out.

Luke nods stiffly, and Percy thinks, for split second, that it might be the end of it.

But as Luke walks by him, Percy hears a low murmur of, “You’ll regret this, mudblood.”

Percy physically winces at the slur, but Luke has already passed on, surrounded by a group of chattering people—his friends and girls who like him, guys who idolize him—basically most of the school, honestly.

He sees blond curls, and then catches a glimpse of Annabeth’s face as she takes in the scene, the hardening of her jaw as she marches up to Luke. He takes her under his arm as she fusses over him, pointedly ignoring Percy. He can tell Luke is telling her the story, and others chime in, although the incessant buzzing in his ears keeps him from hearing anything.

He turns away, unable to take the weight of Annabeth’s icy glare, like daggers in his back.

_How am I going to fix this?_


	23. Chapter 23

Turns out—he can’t.

He thinks, after multiple experiences of trying to figure out what everyone even thinks happened, that whatever impression Annabeth got from Rachel kissing him went a lot deeper than just a kiss. The problem is that he doesn’t know _why—_ and no one will give him the time of day to help him comprehend it.

If it were just Annabeth, he might understand. He might understand that she was hurt, and one of Annabeth’s fatal flaws is pride. He knows that even if she realized that she made a mistake in immediately blaming him, it would take a lot for her to admit it, especially with Luke by her side encouraging her to keep up the bitterness and the anger at Percy without any real explanation.

But everyone else—

The Marauders barely speak to him. The first time after the fight that it happens, that he comes up to them during breakfast and expects at least a hello or someone asking him how detention went or rejoicing in Luke’s still-bruised jaw that apparently potions haven’t fixed yet, he thinks it’s a fluke. Maybe they’re still hurt, or worried about Annabeth, or ­ _something._ They’ll come around. They _have_ to.

But they don’t.

They continue to ignore and reject him, and Percy flounders. His best friends, they’re his _family._ And then suddenly they’re not.

The worst part of it comes the day before the full moon, only a week after everything happens. Percy resolves that he’s going to help, the same way they have been for the past eight months—he’s _going_ to help Grover, even if the said werewolf won’t even really speak to him other than apologetic glances and a murmured _sorry_ every time he passes by. But when he gets to the room of requirement and says the required phrase they came up with to get the specific room, everyone—including Annabeth—is gathered.

His heart freezes in his chest. Somehow he didn’t even think that Annabeth would be there, but of _course_ she would. She’s been a part of this process as long as he has. She’s been there every month right along with them, transforming and usually settling into a tree and keeping an eye on all of them, ready to get help if needed. He had been so focused on the other Marauders that he hadn’t even thought about it.

He clears his throat, tongue dry. “I—I came to help.”

Annabeth is the first to shake her head, but everyone else follows her lead almost immediately. Jason steps forward. “Sorry Percy, but I think it’ll be better if you leave.”

“But why?” Percy asks, feeling numb. “Why do you all hate me, when you haven’t even heard my side of the story? Why—”

“I don’t need your side of the story,” Annabeth’s icy voice breaks in. “We all know more than enough.”

Percy throws a pleading glance toward Grover, but his best friend—pale and sweaty and shaking, so close to the full moon—just shakes his head sadly, not meeting his eyes.

It’s the last straw. Percy shudders—feels his whole body shake—as he turns around in the suffocating silence, the heavy doors closing with an almost deafening noise in comparison. He doesn’t have the strength to continue down the hall, just slumps against the door and slides down until his head is between his knees and he’s shaking, sobbing, curled up on the floor.

_How can this be happening?_

It feels like his heart is being ripped out of him, piece by piece—first Annabeth, and then the Marauders. What could be next?




Maybe the next part really is the worst. He doesn’t even know at this point.

Quidditch has always been his escape. Stressful school, news from home, friend drama—Percy could always escape that on the pitch. The wind whistling in his ears, uniform flapping, the closing of his fingers around the snitch—everything works together in harmony to cool him down, make his mood better, let him think things through clearly without the background noise in his head.

But this year, Luke is on the Gryffindor team. He’s a beater, his muscular form perfect for effortlessly slinging away the heavy balls. And it just makes it harder—one more place where Percy has to see his perfect, taunting grin every time he glances over his shoulder. They’re practicing constantly, since it’s Thalia’s last year on the team and she wants it to be _good._ And with Luke constantly yelling out directions for positions he doesn’t even _play,_ as though he knows everything—Percy feels like he might grate his teeth so much that they’ll shred into nothing. He _hates_ Luke, hates his too-big smile and his big blue eyes and his thick blond hair that never seems to get ruffled no matter how hard the wind’s blowing.

Maybe he hates him the most when Annabeth comes down to the pitch after the Slytherin practice to say hello to the Gryffindor team and walk back to the castle with Luke. He hates the way her smile changes into something he’s never seen before, how deliberately she touches Luke’s arm, the sultry smiles and easy way Luke throws his arm over her shoulders—the exact way Percy used to—as they walk together.

Percy’s never really been much of an angry person. In fact, after growing up with Gabe’s random outbursts, the demonstrations of physical violence towards him and his mother, the way his eyes would get dark with rage and he’d lash out on whatever, or whoever, was closest… Percy has always, _always_ strived to keep his temper in check, to never show outward signs of anger so he would never ever become the person his stepfather was.

But after over a month of snubs from Annabeth and his best friends, after over a month of people beginning to whisper behind their hands when he passes, of seeing Luke and Annabeth together _everywhere_ and the murmured _mudblood_ that Luke says under his breath whenever he gets the chance by Percy—he knows he’s going to snap at some point, again. And it scares him, how out of control he feels, like a loose cannon. Any day now he knows his willpower is going to be lost, and someone else is going to pay the price.

Percy is pretty sure who knows who that someone will be.

Finally, as he feared, his breaking point comes.

They’ve just played a game against Hufflepuff, and lost. Percy knows that it’s partly his fault; he was distracted, and exhausted from the constant insomnia he’s been enduring, and definitely not playing his best. But when Luke comes up to him and starts screaming about what he could have done better, that this loss was entirely Percy’s fault, that he’s good for nothing and shouldn’t even be on the team, when Percy _knows,_ he _knows_ there was a bludger that got past Luke and hit Thalia at one point which caused her to miss a shot, when he _knows_ this loss wasn’t entirely his fault—he loses it.

Everything goes red, and he doesn’t get his vision back until he realizes he’s on top of an unconscious Luke, the blond boy’s face beaten to a pulp. There’s blood all over Percy’s bruised hands, and he stares at them, shaking.

The quidditch pitch—probably over a thousand spectators from the game, plus the teams—is eerily silent.

He allows himself to be dragged off of Luke as a few healers come rushing form the stands to tend to Luke, to bring him to the hospital wing. Percy knows Thalia is yelling at him, he can feel the stares of thousands of eyes on him, judging and tearing and ripping into him with malice, he knows the whispering in the stands has reached an intense volume, but the only thing that really comes through the fuzzy vision and the roaring in his ears is Annabeth.

She runs down from the stands, and he dimly notices every minute detail about her—she’s wearing a dark green coat over her uniform, and her blond curls are pulled back with a lacy ribbon. Her eyes are focused on Luke as soon as she arrives, kneeling next to where he lies unconscious on the pitch, heedless of the mud staining her white stockings. But then she looks up and locks eyes with Percy, Percy who’s still being held back, whose knuckles are bruised and hands spattered with blood, and he knows.

This is the moment when he truly loses everything.

She doesn’t even say anything—they’re too far apart and the noise being made by everyone around them is too much for anything to be heard. But the look in her eyes is one he’s seen only once before—when she stood up to Octavian that one day last year for him, when she was completely closed off, so angry that she could barely speak.

But she’s not the Slytherin princess for nothing. The ice, the hatred in her eyes—he knows it’s closed her off completely to him. For good. This truly was the last straw.

Dimly he hears McGonagall announcing that he will be put on probation for the rest of the year, that he won’t be able to play Quidditch maybe ever again, but it doesn’t even matter now. All he can feel is the weight of Annabeth’s eyes, her disappointment, her hatred.

 _She hates me. And I deserve it,_ he thinks, looking down at his still-shaking hands, fists so tight that more blood is running from the cuts his fingernails have made in his palms.

He feels the weight of a thousand stares, a thousand faces full of hatred and disgust for him, for his actions, and he feels the weight of the girl he loves, who can’t even stand the sight of him.

_I deserve it._




The weight of it crushes him.

It crushes him as he trudges along the hallways to his classes, head down but still hearing the whispers and mocking voices that rise up when he passes by. It crushes him when he sees the Marauders laughing together about something together, light and carefree, like their other member never existed. It crushes him when everyone’s chattering about the latest Quidditch match and he vaguely remembers the sensation of wind in his hair and a roaring in the crowds.

It crushes him the most, maybe, when he sees Annabeth and Luke exiting one of the secret passageways that _he_ first brought Annabeth to, their clothes ruffled and traces of lipstick on Luke’s face.

Annabeth’s claim that she never dated, would keep everything at Hogwarts strictly physical? Yeah, that seems to disappear as quickly as all the other constants in Percy’s life did. She and Luke begin dating officially right before Christmas holidays, cueing them to become the most shipped and awed-over couple in the school.

Annabeth goes to Luke’s house for Christmas with her parents to spend time with his family. Percy spends Christmas day alone at the castle, the only present he gets from his mother.

Sally doesn’t know the details of everything that went on, but her discerning mother’s heart quickly understands that something is wrong. Between the absence of Annabeth’s letters and Percy’s own stilted correspondence, not to mention the letter McGonagall sent to her informing her of the recent developments with Percy’s fighting and probation of Quidditch—it’s not hard to know that something is up.

And god, Percy loves his mom. She sends him a long letter of love and encouragement—slight chiding about the fighting, but the understanding tone behind her words makes it one of the only things that keeps Percy going, that keeps him from giving up on everything. His mom is the only family he has left. He’s not letting her down.

When holidays end and everyone returns to the castle for classes, Percy keeps his head down. He doesn’t really have a choice—it’s that or be ridiculed and mocked wherever he goes. He acquires alarmingly dark circles under his eyes from not sleeping; his insomnia has gotten to the point where he gets maybe ten, eleven hours of sleep in a week.

It’s alright, he tells himself. He deserves it.

His grades start to slip, even more than they had before. Annabeth, ever since they became friends, had been his lifeline; she could make concepts easy, understandable, in a way he never could for himself. Now that he not only doesn’t have her, but is robbed of motivation, he doesn’t even try.

That breaking point comes when McGonagall calls him into her office one Saturday morning after one of his detentions. Her eyes are sympathetic as she tells him to have a seat, wizened gaze sweeping over his pale body, the weight he’s lost even more apparent as his uniform barely stays up anymore.

“Mr. Jackson,” she says, and her voice is soft. “I know this year has been… difficult for you, for many reasons.”

In the past, Percy might have made a smart comment. Now he just shrugs numbly in assent.

She bites her lip. “It’s no secret that your grades are slipping, you’re on probation for Quidditch, and most of your days are spent in detention.”

Again, Percy nods, not having the energy to do anything else.

The kind old professor sighed, taking of her glasses and folding them up in her hand. “I’m wondering if it would be wise for you to maybe take this next semester—or even this next year—off, dear.”

Percy’s head snaps up, the fastest movement he’s made all day. “No, ma’am. Please don’t send me home.”

McGonagall looks surprised. “Why?”

He struggles to explain. “Hogwarts—despite everything that’s happening, it is my home in some ways. I don’t want my mom to worry, and taking off time would mean it would be longer before I could get started on any career paths, which means she has to work harder for even longer. I don’t want to burden her.”

She sighs, leaning back in her chair. “I understand that, Mr. Jackson. I do. And yet if you continue the path you’re on, you might have to re-take the classes for this year already. Your N.E.W.T.s are coming up in only a few months, and you’re nowhere near ready for any of them. I don’t know what career choices you’re even considering, but—”

Percy smiles, soft, sad, at the floor. “I was hoping to maybe go into professional quidditch for a while. At least that was the plan, before—”

McGonagall inhales a bit, understanding. “Well, while I can’t say I’m not sympathetic, that was your own actions that caused you to be removed from the team. Due to your fighting with Mr. Castellan—whether or not it was for good reason—I cannot take back the consequences.”

Percy leans forward in his seat. “For good reason? Does that mean you have a reason to think my suspicions might have been justified?”

She leans forward, eyebrow raised. “Your suspicions?”

“Ever since I’ve met him, I thought—well, it sounds rather stupid now, but it felt like he was up to something,” Percy tries to explain, flushing a little. “There were just things he did—like with Calypso, at the Halloween ball, and I think he might have used the Imperious curse on her—”

McGonagall inhales sharply. “An Unforgiveable curse? Mr. Jackson, you realize that is a very serious accusation.”

“I know,” he replies. “But I’ve thought about it over and over, and nothing else makes sense.”

She purses her lips. “Why don’t you explain to me exactly what happened, so I can look into it.”

“Well,” Percy starts, but just as he begins, the door to McGonagall’s office opens behind him. He turns to find no one but Annabeth herself, looking as surprised to see him as he is to see her.

He hasn’t been this close to her since that fateful day when she told him things were never going back to normal, that what he did was unforgiveable. He doesn’t mean to stare—really—but even after everything, he drinks the sight of her in. The healthy flush in her cheeks, the muscles in her shoulders under her thin white button-up, physique that is more defined after so much Quidditch practice this semester. The way her hair has grown out a little, reaching below her collarbones. He has a sudden urge to tug on one of her curls, the way he used to when he was teasing her about something and she was pretending to get annoyed, but how her eyes would roll with just the hint of a smile twitching around her lips which betrayed that she wasn’t.

The flood of memories seeing her like this hits him like a brick, and he stumbles a little.

Annabeth actually moves forward to steady him before she catches herself, stepping back. The look on her face makes him wonder how bad he really looks—is the insomnia and not eating really that obvious?

Or maybe it’s the longing in his eyes that really caught her by surprise.

Just as soon as it started, the moment ends, and Annabeth turns to McGonagall, completely ignoring Percy as though he didn’t exist. “Sorry to interrupt, Professor, I just had a question about the transfiguration project you assigned yesterday.”

McGonagall sighs and nods at Percy. “Remind me to resume our conversation at a later date, Mr. Jackson. You can go now.”

He nods and turns toward the door, pausing before he closes it to steal one more glance at Annabeth. The way the golden light of the candlelit chandelier catches the highlights in her curls, the ink stains on her elbows that he knows happen when she’s been up too late studying and falls asleep at the table, resting her head in her arms.

His hands start shaking violently as he closes the door. He doesn’t notice the blood streaming from his palms until he gets back to his dorm, where he falls onto his bed and stares numbly at the ceiling until the dawn breaks over the horizon and he finally falls asleep.

The hours aren’t wasted, though. When he wakes up an hour or two later, feeling more rested and invigorated than he has in weeks, he has a plan.

Percy decides to look into Luke’s past himself. For his own sanity, perhaps. For something to focus on. For maybe—deep down, he wonders—a bit of redemption, if he’s right.

It’s a gamble, but it’s hope. And even a faint ray of hope is more than he’s had in a long time.


	24. Chapter 24

“Percy?”

Percy turns, immediately on the defense. He can’t remember the last name he heard his name in kindness. Expecting to find a mocking student or an irate teacher, he instead finds two of the most unlikely characters to appear behind him where he’s eating alone in the dining hall.

Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang. They’re dating, if he remembers right; two sixth years. Piper’s friends with them—or was, he doesn’t know anymore.

“What do you want?” he asks, gruffer than he means to.

Frank looks a little frightened, but Hazel’s determined, sweet expression doesn’t change. “Can we sit down?”

Percy raises an eyebrow. “Does it look like anyone else is going to take your spot?”

She doesn’t dignify that with a response, instead bringing Frank to the other side of the table and sitting down across from him, folding her hands.

“So what’s this about?” Percy asks again, leaning back warily.

“McGonagall wants us to tutor you,” Hazel says, not beating around the bush. “Let’s be real. Everyone knows you aren’t doing well. McGonagall told us—just Frank and I—that she wanted to have you take a year off, but you didn’t want to get behind on your career and education.”

At one point Percy might have been angry that his private discussions were being shared with basically strangers. Now he doesn’t have the energy to care. “Yeah? So she wants you two to tutor me?” He scoffs a little. “I think I’m past the point of getting any better.”

Hazel squares her shoulders. “Not if we can help it,” she says matter-of-factly, and Frank nods his quiet agreement. “If you’re willing to put in the effort, then Frank and I can get you ready for N.E.W.T.’s in March.”

Percy thinks it over for a second, and then nods. “I guess—I guess I can do my best,” he mutters, a little self-conscious.

Hazel doesn’t look fazed, instead clapping her hands in enthusiasm. Her encouragement warms Percy’s heart a little, reminding him of the times Annabeth would throw her head back in a triumphant laugh when he finally grasped a difficult concept or finished a project.

He brings his mind back to the present as Hazel says, “That’s wonderful! You won’t regret it. What time works for you? I was thinking three days a week, and up the time if we need to…”

She prattles on, Frank occasionally putting in a word or two, and Percy finds himself relaxing in their presence. They’re the first people in almost two months to just—treat him like a normal peer, not someone who was untouchable or embarrassing. Just a boy. Just a human.

He thinks maybe it’s a change for the better.




It honestly is.

He starts studying with Frank and Hazel three times a week in the library. It’s basically his only time of normalcy, and within a few weeks it becomes his lifeline. They’re the only people who don’t treat him like an outcast, someone who’s untouchable because to do so would be the end of popularity or respect. He gets to know them slowly. Hazel is a muggleborn from America, who moved to England when she was five years old. She and Frank were neighbors and best friends growing up; Frank is a half-blood whose mother raised him all on her own after her wizard husband passed away.

Hazel is good at transfiguration, herbology, and potions, while Frank focuses more on the academics: Arithmancy and History of Magic. They’re both astoundingly good at Defense against the Dark Arts, and within only a few weeks with their diligent help and working non-stop, Percy exhaustedly realizes that he’s caught up with the rest of the class. He passes a quiz, and then another, and then an important test, and his grades rise quickly and steadily.

He wants to thank Professor McGonagall; Frank and Hazel might not be as close to him as his old friends, but they’re still _friends,_ and the study sessions often turn into social hour as the three of them get closer and closer. Percy feels himself opening up to the couple in a way he hasn’t since Annabeth, but still in a different way—they become almost like his siblings, and the bond he shares with them is different than with the Marauders or Annabeth and Piper.

Somehow, he finds that it’s something he appreciates just as much.

As his grades rise, so do his spirits. He’s still only sleeping a few hours a night, but he’s started taking long walks outside, building up the strength he’d lost after losing Quidditch. He remembers, those three days a week in the library, and then more often as he starts eating and hanging out with Hazel and Frank more, what it’s like to smile again, to feel like he belongs.

It’s not like how it used to be; his heart still twists bitterly when he sees the Marauders being cheered after an impressive prank, or stumbles upon Annabeth and Luke cuddling on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. But it hurts a little less now that he’s not completely alone.

His activities on checking into Luke help bring his spirits up as well. It takes a while, but he finally gets in touch with a friend of a friend’s sister who goes to Beauxbatons. They exchange letters back and forth as introductions for about a week, and then Percy finally explains everything with Luke and asks about him when he went to Beauxbatons. He’s not even really sure what he’s looking for, or if there will be any helpful information from this girl, Bianca, but—he feels, he hopes that he might be getting somewhere. And hope is a dangerously lovely thing.




It’s almost a month after he becomes friends with Frank and Hazel that he finally gets a letter back from Bianca in response to his last letter, when he’d finally brought up Luke. He nearly trips on the stone steps as he leaves the owlery, fingers trembling as he attempts to rip open the letter.

This could be it. Maybe a step in the right direction, maybe a clue. Anything to let him know that he was _right,_ that part of the drastic changes in his life could be Luke’s fault, and his suspicions weren’t in vain.

He opens the letter.

 _Dear Percy,_ it reads.

_I cannot believe that Luke Castellan has managed to escape most suspicion at Hogwarts. When I heard he would be transferring there, I was genuinely convinced that he wouldn’t last more than a few months before everyone found out about his past. Apparently I was wrong._

_Your suspicions are correct, probably far more than you even realize. Luke Castellan went to Beauxbatons for six years. He started a few years late and his parents were rich and influential, so he always had a bit of a following—people who worshipped the ground he walked on. However, he was a huge proponent of blood purity, and grew into a bully and a snob quite quickly. He looked down on anyone who wasn’t of complete magical descent, and got in trouble numerous times for using the slur “mudblood” and mysterious accidents that would befall muggleborns and even half bloods where people said he had been._

_But no one could ever really prove anything—at least, not until his sixth year, when he was caught by numerous students and a teacher using the Cruciatus Curse on a second year, just for fun. Witnesses say he was taunting the child, telling him that he wasn’t fit to be a wizard and didn’t belong in the magical world. The child nearly died from overuse of the curse, and all of Luke’s blood purist friends who were involved were expelled, some who weren’t minors were jailed. However, because of the influence and money Luke’s parents wielded, they were able to almost completely cover the scandal. The magical media never caught wind of it other than a few scattered rumors and whisperings, but no one dared go against Luke’s father and actually make an accusation._

_Enough students at Beauxbatons had heard about what happened for the Castellans to decide that Luke would be better off transferring to another school for his last year. Hogwarts wasn’t even their first choice—they wanted to leave Europe, to go somewhere where he wouldn’t be met with any suspicion whatsoever, but Luke apparently insisted on going to Hogwarts. Now that you mention Annabeth Chase, it makes sense. He’s always had a thing for pretty, powerful purebloods._

_If an accusation or even an investigation were ever to be made against him, there would be overwhelming evidence to arrest him, maybe put him in Azkaban itself. But here in France no one could lift a finger, not even the Beauxbatons headmaster._

_I don’t know where this puts you, Percy, but I want to caution you—be careful. Luke Castellan is far more dangerous than you might think, both in terms of power and raw hatred of muggleborns. If he knew that you had this information, there’s really no telling what he would do to you._

_Keep me updated on what happens, and please contact me if you have any more questions or want further information._

_Your friend,_

_Bianca_




Percy stands outside Chiron’s office, twisting his hands nervously.

Obviously after reading the letter multiple times, he knew immediately what he needed to do. This information needs to be told to Chiron—he trusts the headmaster, and hopefully he would know what to do. But it’s _hard_ , making that decision—what if Chiron didn’t believe him? What if he didn’t look into it? What if he thought Percy was making it up? What if Bianca’s warning came true—what if Luke somehow found out Percy knew what he had done, and decided to come after him, to get revenge?

There were so many unknowns. But Percy knows, now that he has a ray of hope, that he can’t continue on like this. He appreciates and loves Frank and Hazel—truly, they have saved him in a time when he had no one else, and he wouldn’t give up their friendship for anything. But he also misses his old friends, the people who had been his family since he was eleven years old. He misses _Annabeth,_ the girl he loved—and he has to believe that if Luke was convicted, if everyone saw that he had been right all along, there could be some kind of reconciliation. Some kind of redemption—both for him and his friends.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door opens, and Chiron stands with his white beard, smiling kindly at him. “Perseus Jackson. Come in.”

Percy steps nervously into the room as Chiron reseats himself behind the ornate wooden desk. “Please, take a seat.” Percy acquiesces, sitting in a plush brown chair made out of—some kind of fur, he doesn’t really want to know what.

Chiron’s eyes sparkles with warmth and just a hint of mischief. “Now, my boy, what can I do for you?” He looks sympathetic. “I know this has been a difficult year for you, but I have heard of your rising grades and the new friends you’re making and I just want to say, I am quite pleased with you.”

Percy flushes with pleasure, wondering once again how Chiron had the mental capacity to remember every student by name, to be able to keep up with their work and lives in such a way that showed he cared about ever student individually. It really was impressive.

“Thank you, sir,” he mumbles. “I—the reason I’m here now is because I have some—some information I thought might be useful to you.” He winces inwardly at his stuttering. “That is—a friend of mine who goes to Beauxbatons wrote to me after I asked a few questions, and I thought you might want to know—you might know what to do—”

Chiron mercifully cuts him off. “Thank you, my boy. Can I read the letter?”

Percy hands it over wordlessly. His palms are sweating, and he wipes them on his trousers.

It seems like an interminable silence as Chiron reads the letter. His bushy white eyebrows furrow deeper and deeper as he reads, the tension in the air growing. Finally, he puts the letter down and gravely puts his head in his hands.

Percy doesn’t know quite what to do. “…Sir?”

Chiron doesn’t move, just breathes deeply as though calming himself. Percy decides to be quiet.

Finally, the wizened white head lifts, and Chiron’s face is solemn. “I have heard enough rumors about Mr. Castellan that I have been on my guard all the time while he was here. However, to have solid evidence, witnesses, now—everything is falling into place.” His gaze falls on Percy. “Mr. Jackson, I can promise you—I will look into this with the best of my ability, and if this information is found to be true, I will deal with it according to the law. You have my word.”

A burden lifts from Percy’s shoulders, and he stands, feeling a thousand pounds lighter. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

A small, sad smile lifts the corners of the old man’s mouth. “You’re welcome, my boy. And I must caution you—your friend was right. You must be careful now.” He hands the letter to Percy. “Be careful with this—I will need it back, but I cannot be in possession of it until I have other solid evidence to back it up.”

Percy nods, folding the letter tightly in his hand. “Yes, sir.”

Chiron nods at him. “Thank you again, my boy. I shall keep you updated.”

Percy nods and turns to leave the room. His body is shaking so badly that halfway down the hall, he can barely stand. Slumping against the stone wall, he slides down until he’s sitting on the floor, just letting his head hang back, breathing. His eyes close, colors flashing on the back of his eyelids as he tries to catch his breath, to steady his heartbeat.

He startles when he suddenly feels a presence above him. Opening his eyes, he sees no one other than Luke Castellan, because of _course_ that’s how the world works.

The blond boy’s face twists into a sneer. “Percy Jackson. Come to beg Chiron to allow you to stay at Hogwarts?”

Percy chooses to stay quiet as he gets to his feet.

“Everyone knows you were almost sent home,” Luke continues. “Of course, I always thought you’d end up staying. You probably don’t even have the money for the fare back to pitiful little town your mother lives in, do you?”

That hits a nerve, but Percy still remains silent. Despite the weight he’s lost, he’s still taller and nearly as broad as Luke, which helps him as he holds his own against the other boy’s stare.

Luke takes a step closer, until they’re nose to nose. “What are you going to say, Jackson?” he taunts. “Just like a mudblood to not even respond to their betters when they’re talking to them.” He glances down, and his brow furrows. “What’s that in your hand?”

Percy follows his gaze, and his heart sinks. _The letter._ “A personal letter,” he says, the first words he’s spoken to Luke in the whole exchange.

“But you’re headed to Chiron’s office to show it to him—there’s no other reason you’d be in this part of the castle. Hold on, I know… it’s something about your schooling, isn’t it? Maybe this is the final expulsion letter for your failing grades, or maybe just the fact that you don’t belong…”

Quick as a flash, Luke tries to grab at the letter, but Percy knew it was coming. His years of being a seeker don’t fail him—he quickly stuffs the letter in his pocket, but not before Luke sees the Beauxbatons seal.

The other boy’s face darkens. “Why are you getting letters from Beauxbatons, Jackson?”

“I have a friend that I stay in correspondence with there,” Percy replies calmly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” His heart jumping in his chest, Percy tries to move past Luke, but to no avail.

“I think I should see that letter,” Luke says quietly, his eyes glittering with a kind of rage that Percy has never seen before.

“And I don’t think you do,” Percy says. He reaches in his back pocket for his wand, ready to duel himself out of the situation, and then feels his heart sink. He’d left his wand in his dorm, not expecting to need it just going to Chiron’s office and back. Luke, on the other hand, already has his wand in his hand.

He only has one choice, and at this point it’s to run. Percy ducks under Luke’s arm and starts sprinting down the hall, only to hear a shout from behind him, and then a crippling pain hits him. Falling to the ground, all he can feel is pain roaring through his body, like white-hot fire. Dimly, he thinks it feels like the time he fell out of a tree when he was younger and broke his leg, only every inch of his body feels like it’s being broken over and over again.

Finally, the pain stops, and he lays sprawled on the floor, unable to even lift his finger. Through the spots dancing in his eyes, he sees Luke coming towards him, feels him fishing the letter out of his pocket, sees him reading it.

When the blond boy calmly folds the letter and puts it into his own pocket, a look of pure malice twisting his features, Percy knows.

This is it.

There’s no going back now.

Luke bends one knee, bringing his face close to where Percy’s head is on the ground. “Looks like you and I will be having some fun, yeah, Jackson?”

And then the wand is in his face, and everything goes black.


	25. Chapter 25

When he wakes up, he’s alone, and it’s dark.

At first he’s not even sure he opened his eyes or not—whether his eyes are open or closed, the pitch black is the same. It takes him a second, and then he starts panicking—full-out thrashing his bound arms and legs, trying to get free in a frenzy of exhausted struggle.

_I need to get away, I need to get away, I need to get away—_ the mantra pounds through his head, and he barely feels the intense aching in his muscles from the Cruciatus curse Luke used on him earlier, so frantic is his struggling.

It’s to no avail. His bonds are tight—probably magical, now that he forces himself to slow his limbs and think about it—and he has no idea where he is. For all he knows, Luke has brought him to another country. With all of the money and influence his family holds, Percy has no doubt he could accomplish it.

But then there’s a hissing sound from the other side of the room, and a few torches around the walls blaze to life. In the dim lighting, Percy realizes that he’s in one of the basement rooms in Hogwarts—it used to be a floor of classrooms used for older students to do more dangerous experiments and potions, but was closed down a few years before due to a new wing opening up on the main level. Not even the Marauders had explored much down here; it had always seemed a bit dark, with an eerie, almost cursed energy surrounding it.

Luke planned thoroughly. He’s not going to be found until Luke wants him to be— _if_ Luke wants him to be.

The thought almost sends him into another episode of panicked thrashing, but then his brain comes full circle, back to the torches on the walls that are now flickering, showing a shadowed figure standing in the corner.

“I’ll admit—I never liked you, Jackson, but I never thought it would come to this,” the blond says, stepping lazily into the light.

“It didn’t have to,” Percy forces out, not realizing how sore his throat was from screaming earlier until he tries to speak. “I wouldn’t have gone looking into things if not for—well, everything that happened.”

“Everything that happened,” Luke mocks. “My apologies. How did it feel, though—the great Percy Jackson, the boy everyone knows and looks up to, the one who’s idolized by the entire school, to be dragged from his podium to the mud? How does it feel,” Luke leans down, his breath by Percy’s ear, “to be _nobody?_ ”

_Nobody._ The whispered word echoes around the room.

Percy swallows. “If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with. I have nothing to say to you.”

“Actually, you do. Well, _I_ do—it’s only fair that you know everything that happened to you before you die, isn’t it? However, I do have a limited amount of time, so I will try to keep it short.”

“Consider me incredibly grateful,” Percy snarks, his instinctual sarcasm coming in full force despite the circumstances.

He should have reconsidered. Luke’s face twists—his features are unstable enough at this point, and Percy can see a glimpse of a madman under the collected surface—and draws his wand faster than Percy can blink, and then the world is awash in pain again.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed by the time it subsides. Every part of his body is shaking violently, blood running from his mouth where he’s bitten deeply into his lip. His throat is on fire from screaming, body limp from the torture.

Percy truly realizes, maybe for the first time since Luke found him in the hallway, that this really is it. No one is coming to find him. No one cares enough to save him. He is at the mercy of a madman, whose blinding hatred of those different than him is enough to cause him to torture another.

_To death,_ his mind supplies, and Percy understands, now. It’s the truth. He’s going to die in the basements of Hogwarts, tortured in spurts of unfathomable pain until the life leaves his body.

In all the ways he’d imagined he would go out, this wasn’t one of them.

“I’d suggest you shut your mouth, Jackson, and listen, or I won’t stop so quickly next time.” Luke’s voice, shaking with anger, cuts into his hazy thoughts.

Percy doesn’t even have the energy to nod—just looks up at Luke’s chiseled face, the shadows dancing as the torches flicker. Luke relaxes, leaning back and putting his wand back into his pocket. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes—giving my side of the story. I guess it started when I met you this summer, Percy. My being at that club, at that time, wasn’t an accident—I know the owner of the place, and therefore heard that a certain Annabeth Chase had been invited by one of his employees. Word gets around, you know.”

_More like you have ears in all the right places,_ Percy thinks, horror sinking into him as he realizes just how long this has been building, just how long Luke has been planning this.

“I knew I was going to Hogwarts in the fall, due to my… _unfortunate,_ shall we say, incident at Beauxbatons. Of course, you already know about that.” The blond pauses, as though waiting for Percy to confirm it. He doesn’t—he knows at this point, Luke sees that as a victory and wants him to acknowledge what he did. There was no point to it, no point to torturing a literal child, except an ego and a engrained bigotry that extended far past the current generation.

“But seeing her with you, seeing that perfect, beautiful pureblood with a mudblood like yourself, made my blood boil. You didn’t deserve her. You were soiling her, bringing her to your side, maliciously convincing her that mudbloods deserved a seat at the magical table.”

“ _Maliciously convincing—_ ” Percy coughs out an incredulous laugh. “You really think that me being friends with Annabeth is the reason she doesn’t believe the way her mother does, that she considers all people who possess magic as equal?” He tries to shake his head, but the pain is too much. “The whole dumb blond stereotype really hits close to home sometimes.”

This time, he’s expecting it—doesn’t really make it any better, but. He hears his own screaming fill the air and bounce around the stone walls of the room, as though separated from the agony wracking his body. Vaguely he registers his limbs hitting the stone floor as his body convulses violently.

It seems to last forever this time. When it stops, there are black spots scattered through his vision.

He doesn’t know how much more he can take.

Percy feels, more than sees, Luke stepping closer. “You finished being stupid?”

He really wants to say, _bet._ But he can still feel his arms shuddering a little against the floor, can’t feel his legs at all. Despite it all, there’s a faint smidgen of hope that he could still somehow make it out of this. He wants to live.

So he stays silent.

“That’s more like it,” Luke says, approving. “Once I got to Hogwarts, I knew I needed to get rid of you somehow—but how? That was my all-consuming question. I tried to act suspiciously, hoping you would try to investigate me and get too deep, or to a place where I could pin something on you. You were suspicious, I know, but your friends kept you from following me as much as I wanted you to.

“My next plan—get you to alienate yourself. A quick spell, a word from me, and Calypso’s ankle was turned on the dance floor. I didn’t count on you following me, and didn’t realize you had realized I used Imperius on her until later, but it didn’t matter. Everything was falling into place. Annabeth trusted me, almost as much as she trusted you, and I knew she had feelings for me, but her love for you was stronger. I had to get you to betray that trust, throw away that love—and that’s when Rachel Dare entered the picture.”

He laughs a little. “I didn’t even have to Imperius her to get her to kiss you. She was willing to do anything I asked of her. All it took was a little bit of timing on my part so that Annabeth would be there at the perfect moment, and the deed was done. Of course, you might have been able to talk to her later, had I not convinced her that I found you and a certain redhead fucking in one of the abandoned classrooms later in the day.”

Percy closes his eyes. It’s all starting to make sense now.

“The real problem I ran into with that plan was your friends. The Marauders are incredibly loyal—so much so that convincing them to drop you, as Annabeth had so easily after the betrayal towards her, was impossible. They still cared deeply about you—even more than I originally anticipated—and while they were hurt to find out that you had treated Annabeth in such a way, they would never abandon you over it.

“So I Imperiused them to leave you in the dust. To treat you as if you meant nothing to them, to ignore you and alienate you from their group. It worked brilliantly, and the rest of the castle followed the lead of the famous Marauders and Annabeth Chase, the Slytherin princess. If they weren’t associating with you, no one else wanted to either.”

Percy’s thoughts race. _My friends didn’t abandon me._ For the last few months, the hurt of the Marauders—the people he thought were like his brothers, his family—deserting him and not even trying to reconcile had cut deep. At this point, even if they had apologized, he doesn’t know if he could have forgiven them. But to know that it wasn’t their choice, they were forced into submission and still had absolutely no idea—

Peace washes over him. _They still care about you… they would never abandon you._

It all makes sense now.

But his mind presses— _what about Annabeth?_

Apparently he says it out loud. Luke’s eyebrows crinkle. “I have to admit, Annabeth was a bit of a puzzle. I refused to Imperius her, which is why I set up the kiss with Dare in order to alienate her from you—but it also surprised me how easily she was swayed. I was expecting to have to convince her, but she was so quick, so ready to leave you in the dust and not even give you a chance to explain yourself. It worked out well for me, of course, but it was still… surprising, to say the least. Especially based on my estimation of her feelings for you.”

“Her… her feelings for me?” Percy forces out.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Come on, Jackson. Everyone knew she was in love with you. Maybe that’s why she was so quick to drop you when she saw you kissing someone else—but what do I know about what goes on in a woman’s head.”

Percy’s mind swims. _Annabeth… in love? With me?_

It still doesn’t make sense, why she wouldn’t talk to him, why she gave him no chance to explain. That’s not the Annabeth he used to know, the one who would never abandon the people she loved, who would fight for them no matter what. The incredibly kind side of Annabeth, whose heart burned so fiercely for the people around her who were hurting. It doesn’t add up.

But still, the revelation that all this time, Annabeth might have returned his feelings…

Luke breaks into his thoughts, continuing, “Quidditch probation wasn’t even a part of my plan, but you played that part yourself quite brilliantly. I didn’t expect you to really investigate me, but I was on my way to ask Chiron about something concerning professional Quidditch opportunities in the future, and guess who I found about to go into his office.” Luke sneers a little. “Guess you shouldn’t have waited.”

A quick breath of hope flutters in Percy’s chest. Luke thinks that Percy hadn’t yet gone to Chiron—Luke doesn’t know that the headmaster knows of his past, what he did. He thinks he’s safe, thinks there’s no proof.

_I’ve outsmarted you,_ he thinks, his thoughts slower and slower. _Even if you kill me, you’re going to Azkaban. You’re going to pay for everything you’ve done._

Maybe it’s a little selfish, but. He does hope that once Luke is found out, once Percy is dead, that his friends and Annabeth will realize how wrong they were. Well, the Marauders were Imperiused, so they might not until the spell is reversed, but Annabeth—

Maybe Annabeth will realize just how much he loved her, even in the end. Even now, after everything.

He opens his eyes again and catches Luke’s nervous glance at the opened door. “You waiting for someone?” Percy taunts weakly.

Luke’s eyes snap back to his face. “No,” he replies brusquely, but there’s an edge of nervousness to his voice. “Let’s just get this over with.”

A rush of terror hits Percy like a brick. The faint ray of hope that had been eating at the corners of his mind—the hope that someone would come and find them, that someone would save him—fades. No one’s coming to save him.

He’s reduced to begging. “Please, Luke,” he rasps. “Don’t do this. You can’t come back from this. They’ll find my body eventually, and who do you think they’ll blame it on?”

“Anyone but the golden boy of Gryffindor, trust me,” Luke says, and Percy can’t tell if the confidence on his face is a front or not. All he can see is the hate growing in Luke’s eyes, the bloodshot rings around the baby blue irises that exude innocence towards those lucky enough—or cursed, depending on how you look at it—to see that side of him.

The blue eyes narrow. Percy tries to steel himself, to prepare, but he doesn’t even have the ability to clench his muscles.

The screaming starts echoing through the room again, louder and louder until his hearing is fuzzy and all he can feel is the pain, the pain, the pain, in every muscle and fiber of his body. It becomes white hot, as though he’s on fire; flames crackling and eating and melting his flesh, breaking his bones, consuming every part of him.

And then his mind begins to transcend the pain itself, though his body is still thrashing on the floor, and he feels the old cliché of his life flashing before his eyes. He’d never believed it would actually happen, but here he was.

He sees a flash of his mom, running in the sand towards him as the ocean crashes around his bare feet; feels the sun on his face the first time he went to Diagon Alley. Hears the roar of voices and the train’s piercing whistle at the 9 ¾ platform, and smells the first time he ever ate the feast in the dining hall. He sees fuzzy sparks of people, like old polaroids, flashing through his head: Grover, and Jason, and Leo, the three of them bonding in the common room as first years; the first time they all came to his house one summer; their shenanigans as they grew up together in a castle full of magic and life.

He sees a blur of blond curls and feels the splattering of a pumpkin pasty against a freshly-washed white shirt, and then comes a string of grainy film in vintage, faded colors: Annabeth, walking towards him in those heels and that high ponytail swinging; Annabeth, her head on his shoulder at the Halloween party last year; Annabeth, on his bed on Christmas morning; Annabeth’s tears when she transformed into her Animagus for the first time; Annabeth, her grey eyes wide as she saw the sea; Annabeth, long hair waving in the salty breeze as she laughed by the ocean during one of those endless summer days; Annabeth, with short curls and a fierce smile blazing on the platform at London Station; Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth.

_I never got to say goodbye._

Life’s a funny thing, Percy muses, as the pain wracks his body and he can hear the blood roaring in his ears, spots beginning to cover his eyes. Everything, _everyone_ , is taken for granted; you don’t realize how much you love someone until they’re gone.

He knows now that life is the same; it’s infinitely sweeter, infinitely more precious, now that his is almost gone.

He resolves (though in his heart he knows he’s out of time) that if he lives, he will never take anything for granted again.

(Because life is worth too much to forget its value.)

**Author's Note:**

> should be updating twice a week. hope y'all enjoy! =)


End file.
